Snatch
by littlemisselvee
Summary: 6th year. Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, knows just how to win the war. She has a plan. She's made her lists. She's kidnapped Draco Malfoy. Now she needs to survive in an isolated one room cabin without killing him, marrying him or falling for him. Hiding turns into a chase across Europe with the Order and the Death Eaters hot on their heels.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yes, I'm bad for not finishing my Snape/Hermione ****_What Price Victory_****. You can beat me later. Promise. ;) **

**This story begins in the late Spring of 6****th**** year. Draco has been working on the vanishing cabinet, and trying to whack Dumbledore. Up until this point, the story will be cannon. From here, it's going to be a wild ride. Everyone always thought Hermione was the brightest witch of her age. I say she needs to prove it. Ever since Harry came off the train ranting about Draco Malfoy breaking his nose, Hermione has slowly been putting the puzzle pieces together. Let's see what she came up with, shall we? First stop: Dumbledore's office.**

**Happy Birthday to me. :)**

**-Elvee**

* * *

Snatch

Chapter One

"_Genius is initiative on fire." _

- Holbrook Jackson

Sixth year prefect Hermione Granger stood facing a gargoyle statue in a dimly lit hallway of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The stone corridor was damp and chilly for a March evening and she was wearing a school jumper for warmth over her uniform in addition to her work robes. She checked the folded piece of parchment in her hands for the third time. On it, in Professor McGonogall's precise handwriting was written: _Fizzing Whizbees 8PM_. Checking her watch and finding it five minutes before the hour, she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.

Fingering the heart shaped locket around her neck, she took another steadying breath and patted down her hair. She'd been working toward this meeting with Professor Dumbledore since the beginning of the year. It was time to demonstrate what being the brightest witch of her age really meant.

Softly, she gave the password and the five foot gargoyle obligingly jumped out of the way, revealing a magically turning circular staircase. Her foot scuffed at some stray grit on the bottom stair, and it echoed loudly as the staircase carried her upward. Approaching the door at the top of the stairs she could hear muffled voices. She frowned. She'd been sure to ask Professor McGonagall for a private appointment. Hesitating for only a moment, she stepped off the corckscrewing stairs to the small landing and knocked crisply.

The voices were suddenly hushed, and a muffled "Come in," answered her knock. She turned the knob and stepped inside the posh office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Seated behind an immense mahogany desk sat a merry old wizard sporting half moon glasses perched on the end of a long and slightly crooked nose. He smiled warmly and motioned to a squashy armchair situated in front of his desk, "Good evening, Miss Granger. Please. Have a seat."

Hermione hesitated in the door frame, biting her lower lip. _In for a knut, in for a galleon_, she thought before addressing the Headmaster, "Excuse me, sir." Without pause she cast a _hominum revelio_ charm. A glowing red outline surrounded Albus Dumbledore, just as the charm was supposed to. To her surprise, it also outlined a form in a darkened corner across the room. She pursed her lips, then quickly cast a _finite incantatum_ at the lurking figure.

The menacing form of Professor Snape, Potions Master and known Death Eater melted into existence. She would have known that shoulder length greasy hair, hooked nose and pallid complexion anywhere. He sneered at her. Hermione frowned and darted her eyes to meet the twinkling blue ones of the Headmaster. "I specifically asked for a private meeting, Professor." She didn't move out of the doorway.

"Indeed, you did. However, if this meeting is about Order business, I'd much prefer Professor Snape listen in. It would save a good deal of time and much less will be lost in the retelling." He waved his wand and a tea tray appeared on his desk. "Tea?"

Hermione stiffened and her eyes darted back to the Potions Master, "May I speak freely, sir?"

Dumbledore was busily pouring three cups of tea with his wand. "Of course, but only if you sit and have tea." He motioned to the second armchair, "You, too, Severus. Sit. We're all friends here."

Hermione perched on the very end of the squashy armchair and hesitantly accepted a cup of tea, "Sir, I asked for a private audience with you because the information I have gathered for the Order is, well... sensitive."

Dumbledore took a lemon cookie from the tray and munched thoughtfully, "Nothing to worry about there, Miss Granger. As you are well aware, Professor Snape works for the Order. Anything you can say to me, you can say to him."

By this time, Professor Snape had seated himself rather stiffly in the armchair next to hers. His cup of tea was resting untouched on his knee. The sneer was gone, but his eyes were far too piercing for comfort.

Hermione sighed before reaching in her robes and extracting a pair of mirrored sunglasses. She put them on, adjusting the neck strap as tight as it would go. She tapped her wand to the temple of the glasses, casting a non-verbal anti-summoning jinx.

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged a look.

"I'm afraid Professor Snape's position in the Order isn't what's in question. It's a matter of where his loyalties lie." Hermione's voice shook from nerves. Students didn't dare insult teachers, let alone prefects, but she had no choice. Her information was right, and it all pointed to a very dire set of circumstances.

"And the sunglasses?" Professor Snape drawled.

Hermione stiffened while sipping her tea. The cup rattled slightly in the saucer when she put it down. "I am only here to discuss information that is mine to give. I am aware I am sitting in a room with two of the best Legilimens in Britain. I have read about it, of course, but I am no where near ready to defend myself from either of you."

Snape sneered, but Professor Dumbledore only chuckled, "Too right you are Miss Granger. Too right. As to the matter of Professor Snape's loyalty, I tire of telling you the same thing I tell Mister Potter. Professor Snape's loyalty is above reproach."

Hermione gave the Potions Master a measured look from behind her sunglasses before turning back to the Headmaster, "Then you trust him completely?"

Dumbledore become solemn for the first time since she'd entered the office. "I trust Severus with my life."

Snape shifted in his seat.

Hermione gave herself a few minutes to think. He was the one last year that summoned the Order to the Ministry of Magic to rescue the handful of students that had been pinned down by Death Eaters. She'd been mortally wounded, and might not be sitting in this office this evening without his intervention. In a roundabout way, she owed him her life. She stood and offered her hand to the surly Professor, "Please accept my apologies, sir. I understand you have a difficult part to play in this war, and it speaks very highly of you how thoroughly you convinced me." Hesitantly he took her hand and they shook, she finished in a much smaller voice, "I wish I could have known you in other circumstances."

The Potions Master pinned her with a long look. Hermione thought he might be trying to feel out the truth of those words. He could believe her or not, she was sincere. She sank back in her chair.

Dumbledore laughed, "Wonderful! Now that we all understand one another, what is it you came to see me about?"

Hermione slid her empty tea cup back on the tray, hesitating again. It was difficult having a sharp mind in such a young body. A startling connection had just occurred to her, and it might well be seen as impertinent for her to say something. She quickly listed the pros and cons in her head before she spoke again, "Professor, if Professor Snape is as dedicated and trustworthy as you say, you have done him a great disservice. You are far more manipulative than I have given you credit for."

Snape choked on a mouthful of tea.

Hermione pushed on in their stunned silence, "You have successfully allowed Professor Snape to be alienated by the rest of the Order. Aside from you and myself, no one will trust him. If something should happen to you, we will lose a very valuable source of insider information." She turned to Professor Snape, "That is, if I have pieced the facts together properly and you are a spy in the Death Eater inner circle."

Neither man confirmed it, but they didn't deny it, either.

The seventeen year old girl squared her shoulders to her Headmaster and pressed on, "Professor Dumbledore, your life is in danger. Draco Malfoy is trying to kill you."

"Indeed?" The twinkle was back in the old wizard's eyes. He knew this already.

"And tell me, how do you know this?" Professor Snape pinned her with a hard stare.

"It's all very logical, sir. I know that he was given a task from Vol-" At Snape's hissed intake of breath, she stuttered, "He Who Must Not Be Named. He cornered Harry on the train when we first got here and gave him a bloody nose. Harry is an unlikely target, given the Prophecy says He Who Must Not Be Named must kill him. If he wanted myself or Ron, it would have been easy for him to do it anytime this year. He could have simply gathered his goons and attacked us while we were alone. Then we look at what has been done: the poisoned mead that was meant for Professor Dumbledore, and the necklace that was to be brought to him. It all points to the Headmaster."

Dumbledore poured himself another cup of tea, "And how can you be so sure it is Mister Malfoy?"

"At first I wasn't, but I took some time to think about it. At the battle of the Ministry last year, Lucius Malfoy was giving the orders to the other Death Eaters. He was in charge. Obviously, he failed and the prophecy was broken." She turned to Professor Snape, "I can only imagine that the Death Eaters are like any other insurgent group, with a hierarchy of followers behind You Know Who. If Lucius failed in that mission, it is likely that he would lose status among the Death Eaters. But, I don't think You Know Who would have been satisfied with Lucius being kicked around by the others. The Prophecy was important. He'd want his pound of flesh."

She took a biscuit from the tray and munched thoughtfully, "So I asked myself what does Lucius Malfoy value above everything else? Then it came to me: his name, his family. I still wasn't sure, but with all the free time I had since the boys were practicing Quidditch, and having extra lessons with you, Professor, I took some time and did a bit of digging."

She reached into the neck of her robes and opened her locket, taking out a small stack of confetti-sized bits of parchment. She tapped them with her wand, whispering "_Engorgio_." The parchments grew into a stack of papers covered in her tidy script. She dug through them and handed one across the desk to Professor Dumbledore, continuing, "As you can see, all of the Malfoys for the last thirteen generations have died within six months of the death of their spouses. One or two may be a coincidence, but thirteen?"

She shuffled her papers and passed another to the Headmaster. He handed the first paper to Professor Snape before accepting the new document and looking it over.

"So I did some digging into bonding rituals, and it would seem that there are many different types, all of which constitute a magical contract. It's my theory that the Malfoys use a very old form of the bonding ritual that not only magically enforces fidelity, but also causes the death of the surviving spouse within six months. If my research is correct, it was first used in a marriage of alliance in 1607 to prevent the then Malfoy heir from marrying the daughter of a powerful family and killing her off to inherit her holdings."

Hermione rushed on, nearly breathless, "If the Malfoys still use this bonding ritual when they marry, that means Lucius Malfoy is unable to conceive another heir."

Dumbledore exchanged a look with Professor Snape, "You were at their wedding. Is this true? Do they use this old ritual?" He passed the paper to Snape detailing the spell to magically bond wizard and witch in matrimony.

Snape let his eyes drag over the bushy haired slip of a girl beside him before scanning the paper. "It is." He sat forward in his chair, and directed his question at the quivering prefect beside him, "But how can you possibly know that he cannot have another heir. Narcissa is still in her prime."

Hermione had the good graces to pinken in her cheeks, "That was a little more... difficult. I overheard Malfoy saying his mother had gone to France on a shopping trip. I sent an message to St. Mungo's pretending to be a French healer who needed a copy of her medical records to treat her. I sent it via prepaid return express owl, so the copy of the records came to me instead of going to a fictitious healer in France."

She dug out a few pages from her dwindling pile, handing them to Professor Snape this time. "As you can see, Narcissa Malfoy has had four miscarriages. She was declared infertile when Draco was ten."

Professor Dumbledore read the medical records Professor Snape placed on his desk and laughed, "Well reasoned, Miss Granger."

"How does this implicate Mr. Malfoy?" Snape said tightly.

Hermione smiled, logic was, well, logical, and it hadn't failed her yet. "Simple. You Know Who wanted to punish Lucius, so he gave a seemingly impossible task to the only person that he holds dear, knowing Draco would never complete it. It would give You Know Who the perfect reason to torture or even kill Draco Malfoy while Lucius could stand by and do nothing."

Her bushy head was going a mile a minute, and it led her to a very unsettling conclusion, "But you already knew about this, didn't you?"

"Of course," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling again. "That is not to say it wasn't a brilliant piece of reasoning and research on your part."

The young prefect bit her lip before asking a question she thought she already had the answer to, "So what are we going to do about it?"

"_Do_?" asked Dumbledore, still twinkling. "We're not going to _do_ anything."

"But..." She was about to protest, but it would be all too easy for them to dismiss her before she presented her very logical, very well thought out plan. She could see them shifting in their chairs, readying themselves to push her out the door. It was going to take something drastic to keep them listening. She lowered her voice to a very serious tone, "With all due respect, sir, I don't think you've thought this all the way through. Malfoy may be spoiled, bigoted and rude, but he's also cunning, impatient and petulant. It's a bad combination. As small as the possibility might be that he could succeed, if he did, it would bring the Order to it's knees."

She had their attention now. She waited. Professor Snape didn't disappoint her. He said one word curtly, "Explain."

The swotty girl in her was happy to oblige, "Without Professor Dumbledore, the Order will be left scattered and leaderless. You might have been able to take the reins, Professor Snape, but as I said, Professor Dumbledore has made sure no one in the Order aside from himself – and now me- trusts you. Begging your pardon, sir." She aimed this last sentence at her Headmaster.

"Quite alright. Please continue, Miss Granger." Dumbledore wasn't smiling or twinkling anymore.

Hermione looked at her feet, talking slowly and deliberately. "Professor McGonagall is my head of house and I think she's a very capable witch, but she doesn't have the strong leadership qualities to hold the Order together for long. Who does that leave? Molly Weasley? She can't feed Vol- You Know Who to death. Arthur Weasley is under too much suspicion at the Ministry, as are Tonks and Kingsley. Anyone who might be able to hold the Order together is already under far too much suspicion to take on the mantle. Not to mention, how another leader will be received. I think, due to the Prophecy, if you die, the Order will look to Harry. And I think we all know he isn't ready to lead."

Hermione sighed, "I think, if you die Professor, it will be just a matter of time before the Order crumbles. We'd be in a race against time to take down You Know Who before it all fell apart."

Dumbledore waved his wand and the tea tray disappeared. "What do you suggest we do, Miss Granger?"

She sat up straight in her chair and announced, "I have to kidnap Draco Malfoy."

Their reaction wasn't what she had expected. There were no outbursts of disbelief. No one laughed. Professor Dumbledore merely steepled his fingers and tapped his them thoughtfully against his lips, thinking. The Potions Master turned spy recoiled slightly, but remained silent as he narrowed his eyes and stared into the distance.

After pausing for a full minute of silence, Hermione pushed on ahead, "Fully a third of the fighters the Order can count on are still living within these walls as students. We're not battle hardened veterans, we're school kids who practice dueling in the hopes of getting lucky. If the Order crumbles much more, we won't have a hope of defeating them, even_ if _Harry can take down You Know Who. We need a way to weaken them from the inside. Using Professor Snape would endanger him and compromise our intelligence. We need leverage from someone none of the Death Eaters would ever suspect- one of their own."

Snape obviously thought he had her here, and he sneered, "And what makes you think Lucius Malfoy would cooperate even if we had his son?"

Hermione didn't miss a beat, "The Unbreakbale Vow you took with Narcissa Malfoy."

Snape clearly wanted to gasp, but settled for hissing, "How do you know about that?" Dumbledore's eyes were now more piercing than the Potions Master and his normally smiling mouth fell into a thin line.

She knew her mirrored sunglasses only showed him a tiny picture of himself instead of allowing him to burrow into her mind and find out the truth. She would never reveal Harry had been listening outside that classroom door on the night of Slughorn's party when Professor Snape revealed his vow to Draco Malfoy. "How I know isn't important, sir. What's important is that Narcissa Malfoy will do anything to keep her son safe. I think it would be a good bet that she would cajole or even bully Lucius into cooperating."

Dumbledore spoke for the first time in many minutes, "If we do kidnap Draco Malfoy, we can't kill him. The Vow Severus took would take his life if the young Mr. Malfoy were to die. Narcissa knows this." Dumbledore's furrowed brow suddenly brightened, "Of course, that would play into our hands as well. Narcissa would confide in you, Severus, and would expect you to do anything it took to keep her son alive. It would enable you to work openly with Lucius and Narcissa to bring down the inner circle and create chaos with Voldemort's allies."

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Exactly that, sir."

Dumbledore's face relaxed into a look of admiration, "Very good thinking, Miss Granger. This is an angle I hadn't thought of yet. Kidnapping Draco Malfoy would be a significant boon to the Order."

Even though Professor Dumbledore was beginning to see the merits of her idea, Hermione didn't like the way he was speaking, implying if the Order did implement her plan, they'd cut her out of it. She smiled anyway, it was time to tip her hand, "There are two reasons I should be the one to kidnap Draco Malfoy. I am the only Muggleborn witch in the Order that is unmarried and of age. I wouldn't threaten to kill him. I'd threaten to marry him."

Snape nearly choked and jumped to his feet, his cape swirling behind him as he paced, "What if Lucius doesn't agree, Miss Granger? What if you are forced to marry Mr. Malfoy? Do you have the intestinal fortitude to go through with it?"

Professor Dumbledore merely raised a bushy white eyebrow at her and waited.

Hermione shifted in her seat, this was the uncomfortable part of her plan. Marrying the bouncing ferret wasn't exactly her idea of happily ever after. Logic dictated any plan had risks. She had thought it through and had already made her decision, "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't willing to do whatever it takes to succeed. If they refuse, I am fully committed to marrying Draco Malfoy. If that winds up being the case, I would get the satisfaction of knowing the House of Malfoy could never again side with Pureblood supremacists. It's a calculated risk, but the odds are very much in our favor. Lucius will protect his heir and progeny."

Professor Snape ceased his pacing, again trying to look in her eyes, but resumed when he saw her sunglasses again. Minute after minute stretched out.

Dumbledore twirled his wand between his fingers, his eyes twinkling again at last. Finally he broke the silence, "You said there were two reasons, Miss Granger. What is the second?"

This was tougher. Admitting weakness was always difficult for her. "I haven't been tested."

Snape stopped mid-stride with his back to her. "Tested?"

She fidgeted with her papers, tapping them with her wand to shrink them and tuck them back inside her locket. "I think I know much more about the Order than anyone else outside this room. I know that Professor Lupin has been planted with the werewolves. I know that Hagrid was sent to the giants. I know that Professor Snape is a spy. I know that curse you're hiding on your hand Professor Dumbledore has the power to eventually kill you. More than that, I know how fragile the Order truly is. If I'm ever captured and tortured for information, I'm not sure how long I'll be able to hold out. I need to be taken off the board. I'm a weak link."

Professor Dumbledore offered her a lemon drop and a calm smile. "With a mind like yours, I doubt anyone would ever consider you to be a weak link, Miss Granger," he said kindly. "For now, it is late and I'm sure you'd like to retire. Let me think over what you've said, and I'll send for you in a few days."

Hermione nodded, popping the lemon drop in her mouth. "Yes, sir. Thank you for your time." As she stood to leave, she turned back to Professor Snape, "My apologies again, sir." At his nod, she left the room, closing the door behind her softly.

Severus slumped back into the chair, huffing in disbelief, "Brightest witch of our age, indeed! Merlin! I thought we'd been careful."

Dumbledore gave a wry smile, "We were careful, Severus. I warned you about underestimating her. She's truly remarkable."

Both of them sat with their thoughts for a long quiet minute. Dumbledore crossed to the huge window overlooking the dark grounds and spoke, "She's right about one thing: if she's ever captured..."

"I'll have to rescue her," Snape cut in, obviously put out that something else was being added to his already heaping plate of duties.

As Dumbledore stared out into the night, his next words made him sound old and worn out, "If you can't, you know what must be done." The gray haired wizard removed his glasses and polished them on his sleeve, refusing to meet the other man's eyes. Finally, he managed to choke a few words out of his tightening throat, "If it comes to that, Severus, make it painless."

A/N: Today is my birthday. Please review. :) Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Help? Can anyone tell me how to fix errors in the first chapter, I found a few after reading through it, and I thought by saving the new changes, it would stick. Apparently not?**

**There's just a bit of last minute set up in this chapter, then we get to throw a sack over Draco and let the games begin! If you're enjoying what you read, please take a moment to leave a review. Yesterday was my birthday, and I turned ** (old).**

**-Elvee**

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Chapter Two

"_To achieve great things two things are needed; a plan and not quite enough time."_

-Leonard Bernstein

A week later, Hermione had received Professor Dumbledore's note over breakfast. It still had a smear of dried porridge on it, but she could read his elegant handwriting clearly: _Acid Pops 9PM. _All week she'd been making a master list of things to buy, brew, do and acquire. Prefects most certainly didn't steal. They – ahem- acquired.

As she rode the spiral staircase to the Headmaster's office, she was busily reviewing her list. Most items had only been checked off in the past couple of days, explaining her waxy complexion, crazy hair and the slightly manic look in her eyes. She could tell some things were already going to be problematic, and was hoping Professor Dumbledore might have some ideas.

After last week's meeting she would have thought that perhaps Professor Snape would have been a bit better in his lessons, but nothing could have been further from the truth. She'd lost a record one hundred and twelve points this week for helping Neville and knowing the answers to too many questions. She did catch him trying to pry into her thoughts once, but quickly broke the eye contact and refused to look at him the rest of the week. She wondered if he'd be here tonight as well.

All too soon the ride to the Headmaster's door was finished and she found herself taking a deep breath and giving three sharp knocks.

"Come in," Professor Dumbledore called.

She opened the door slowly, reaching for her sunglasses again. Finding Professor Snape pacing in front of the snapping fire, she took a moment and put them on before saying, "Good evening, Professors."

Professor Dumbledore sank down into his desk chair and conjured a tray of hot chocolate and biscuits. He smiled and said, "I find tea too close to bedtime keeps me awake. Hot chocolate, Miss Granger?"

"Thank you, sir." She took the offered cup and sank into a chair.

Dumbledore sent Professor Snape a mock scowl, "Severus, don't sulk. Have some chocolate and come join the discussion."

Professor Snape took the opposite chair, accepting the hot chocolate, but quickly transfiguring it to fire whiskey and downing it in one go. He turned to face Hermione full on, saying, "Well, Miss Granger, are you quite sure you're willing to go through with this?"

With a dainty finger, she wiped the foam from her top lip and said, "I am, sir. I was ready to begin preparations last week."

At this answer, Dumbledore nodded gravely, "Harry will not be pleased. I had planned for you to be with him during the days leading up to the final battle to help him... figure some things out and give him tempering advice."

Hermione sighed, "I had thought about that. If we can eliminate Fenrir Grayback early on, we should be able to pull Professor Lupin from his field duty. He and Harry get on well, and he will give as good advice as I could. I've written him a letter to be sent when the time comes. Harry won't like it, but he'll come around. It's Ron I worry about, sir."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "And how do you propose we tell Mr. Weasley?" He took a bottle of fire whiskey from a drawer in his desk and pushed across to the other man with a smile.

"We don't." For the first time in six years Hermione saw approval in the Potions Master's eyes. "There is nothing I can say or do that will make Ron understand what must be done. It would be better to ask forgiveness than permission, as the saying goes."

"Very well. Severus, please go ahead and tell Miss Granger the details we've worked out." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and prepared to listen.

Hermione, however, had other ideas, "No!" she cried, before Professor Snape could get a word in edgewise. "My apologies, sir, but I have all the details worked out. The less I know about anything else in the Order, the better. For that matter, the less Professor Snape knows about it, all the better for him. I only..."

"You only... what? Miss Granger?" Professor Snape sneered.

"I need some help with a few things. Food, for example. It isn't the cooking, I can cook quite well. Rather, I can't exactly run out to go shopping. Even if I wore a disguise, Malfoy might try to escape. There's no telling how long we'll have to stay holed up. I've given it a lot of thought, and I think I might need a house elf." She mumbled that last bit. It really stung to think she might need to use slave labor to get her job done. There had to be a better way, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure it out.

The house elf issue really bothered her, not only would she need the help of a house elf, she'd have to _own_ one to make sure all of her instructions were carried out the the letter. There was only one elf she could think of that would let her avoid the entire slave-owning process. She'd prepared for it in the hope that Dumbledore would be willing. "I was wondering, sir, if I might offer Dobby work."

Dumbledore laughed, "Wonderful idea! Dobby!"

With a crack, Dobby appeared wearing one green sock and one orange one. He had four hats on his head and a holey pink jumper on that reached to his knees. He bowed low in front of Dumbledore's desk. "How may Dobby serve, sir? More hot chocolate?"

"Good evening, Dobby. I'd like for you to listen to Miss Granger's offer of employment. She has some very important work to do, and needs a very good elf to help her. If you agree, she'll become your new mistress." Dumbledore said.

"Hello Dobby. How are you?" Hermione had charmed a small beaded purse with an undetectable extension charm just a few days ago. Right now she had her arm shoved in up to her armpit, fishing around for something.

"Miss Granger! Dobby's head is always warm because Miss Granger always makes such nice hats. You is Harry Potter's friend." Dobby bowed low.

Hermione finally retrieved the item out of her purse and offered it to Dobby. It was an apron, shrunk down to a child's size with the words _Kiss the House Elf _on it. "I brought you something."

Dobby immediately teared up, "Oh, Miss Granger is so nice to think of Dobby! Thank you, friend of Harry Potter!" Hermione helped him slip it over his head and tied it around his waist.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Snape huffed under his breath, sloshing another shot of whiskey into his glass.

Professor Dumbledore patted the air, telling Snape silently not to interrupt. Snape rolled his eyes and gulped the drink.

"Dobby, how much money does Professor Dumbledore pay you every week?" Hermione dug out her coin purse.

"A galleon a week and one day off a month." He said proudly, puffing up his chest.

Hermione let her face fall into a frown, as if considering, before saying, "That's very good. It's going to be tough to beat, but how about a galleon every two weeks and a day off every three months? Do you think that would be fair? I'm only making such a generous offer because I need the very best help I can find, and you're the best house elf Harry has ever known."

Dobby's chin began to quiver, then he broke down and began to sob outright, saying between hiccups, "Does Harry Potter say that? Dobby is the very best elf he knows?"

Hermione dropped to her knees in front of the elf and dabbed at his eyes with her handkerchief, "Yes, he does. I know you like working here, but Harry and I really need your help. Would you consider working for me, Dobby?"

Dobby's sniffled miserably, but he turned bravely to Professor Dumbledore, "Dobby is sorry, Professor Dumbledore, sir, but Miss Granger is a friend of Harry Potter's and she is needing my help. Dobby..." he stopped abruptly, struggling for the word. "Dobby..."

"You quit?" Professor Dumbledore asked, his blue eyes merry. Snape rolled his eyes.

"Yes! Dobby quits!" The small elf burst out in a fresh round of sobs, wailing loudly into the hem of his new apron.

"Excellent, Dobby! Miss Granger is now your new mistress, you must obey only her orders and keep all her secrets as you have kept mine. And I would be very pleased to have you back, if you ever find yourself in need of more work."Dumbledore held out his hand and shook with the elf.

Knowing that house elves were beside themselves with glee under punishing work schedules, she handed the elf a list, "This is your first task as my best elf, Dobby. Get everything on that list and make sure to put the food under a stasis charm. It will have to last us a very long time."

Dobby bowed and beamed over top of the long list, "Right away, Miss Granger."

"Return to me when you're done, we have much to do. Oh!" She fished a galleon out of her robes and handed it to him, "Here is your first two week's pay. Make sure you have enough clothes to be warm."

With a bow and a watery smile, Dobby was gone with a loud crack.

"For Merlin's sake! Can we get on with it?" Professor Snape capped the whiskey and resumed pacing in front of the fire.

Hermione stiffened, "Sorry, sir. I will also need money. Money that can't be traced back to anyone in the Order or to Great Britain for that matter. I have a few thousand pounds put aside, but that will hardly be enough to fund a safe house. I'd say even well provisioned at the start, I'll need about three thousand galleons." It was a small fortune, and she winced at the figure she threw so blithely out into the air.

"Done." The Potions Master said curtly. "Next."

Hermione looked sheepish, "Potions and potion ingredients. If I need to be ready anytime I can't start brewing soon enough. I'll need work space, ingredients and privacy to brew everything I might need."

"Such as?" Snape was immediately suspicious and raised an eyebrow.

"Amortentia, Veritaserum, Polyjuice, and various high level healing potions. Blood replenisher, Skele-Gro, those kinds of things. Also enough ingredients that I can make bruise salve, Pepper Up and possibly nutritive potions in case of pregnancy."

"Amortentia? Miss Granger, explain to me why you would need the most potent love potion in the world." Snape's eyebrow hadn't lowered since she'd mentioned the love potion.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with mischief, "Severus, that will only be used if Lucius Malfoy doesn't keep his end of the bargain, am I right Miss Granger?"

She blushed, "Yes, sir. If that's the case, I'll need a – er- willing groom." She cleared her throat, "I'll also need to arrange long term loans of quite a few books out of the library."

Snape snorted, "You are hardly going on vacation, Miss Granger. You won't have time for recreational reading."

"I hardly thought I might, Professor," she bit back. "If I am in need of more than the standard potions, I will need a recipe to brew them from, yes? I also require some more advanced warding books, healing spells and books on wizarding marriage, pregnancy and childbirth. I'm sure I'd want more, but I'm also quite sure I couldn't fit them all, even with the extension charm."She motioned to her beaded bag.

Dumbledore was nodding along, "Consider it done. If you have a list, I'll have Madam Pince see to it."

After handing over the list of titles she thought would come in handy, she checked her master list, they were rapidly reaching the bottom, "I'll also need an international portkey to an as yet undetermined location."

The Potions Master threw up his hands in exasperation, "Albus! I must protest! She doesn't even know where she's going yet!"

"Actually, sir, I do. I need the money to secure the property. Even if I did know the address, I wouldn't give it to Professor Dumbledore in front of you for reasons we've already discussed," She said stiffly. "I've already hired a barrister to act as a go-between." She thumbed through the rest of her list, "The only other thing left is to ensure my parents' safety. When I disappear at the same time as Draco, someone is liable to put two and two together. At the very least, we'd have to worry that Lucius would not be above a little leverage himself."

Despite not defending her from Professor Snape's sniping protests, Dumbledore was nodding along as she spoke. "Of course. A very reasonable and prudent request. We'll make plans to move them as soon as possible."

Hermione bit her lip, this next request wasn't going to go over very well. "I'd like to make a few things clear, sir. When I am finished my preparations, I'll take Draco to the location I've chosen. After that, there will be no more direct contact between myself and anyone else in the Order. We can't risk it." She'd thought of many ways to communicate, but all of them were traceable in one way or another.

Dumbledore smiled gently, "There, Miss Granger, we are going to have to agree to disagree. I will provide you with a safe and secure way to contact Professor Snape. As he will have the best vantage point close to Lucius and Narcissa, he will be an ideal ally. At the same time, perhaps you will be able to pass along any intelligence to Harry and the Order, should my demise make it otherwise... difficult."

The last of the now cold chocolate was swigged back, and Hermione was dismissed with the knowledge she would regularly be given detention in Potions to account for her late night brewing sessions.

Over the next month, true to the Potions Master's word, she got detention for everything from answering too many questions to breathing too loudly while brewing. She would spend hours each night pouring over a cauldron as Dobby popped in and out running errands.

Late on the night that her parents were to be moved, Professor Snape banged open the door to the deserted classroom where she had several cauldrons brewing at once. His usually perfect clothing was ripped. He was bleeding from a shoulder wound and his hands were shaking.

"Miss Granger?" he said quietly, almost kindly.

Turning to take in his sudden appearance, her fingers grew numb. She dropped her silver knife on the floor with a clatter. "What's wrong Professor?"

His mouth was pulled into a hard line. He blinked once, twice. He didn't answer.

Her tongue was too thick for her mouth. It was an effort just to form the words, "Professor, where are my parents? Did they make it to the safe house?"

Professor Snape put a stasis charm on her cauldron then said quietly, "We were attacked enroute." He leaned heavily on the table, not looking at her. "I'm sorry."

As the implications of his two words hit her, the world began to tilt. Her legs turned to jelly and Professor Snape caught her just as she fainted away.

She woke under the watchful eyes of Madam Pomfrey, who released her into the supportive arms of Harry and Ron. She took calming draughts to make it through her days, and dreamless sleep to make it through her nights. She went from class to class like a zombie, going through the motions of normalcy. Several days passed in a nondescript blur.

Everyone knew that Death Eaters killed muggles. The names were all over the Daily Prophet or muggle papers. But that's all they were ever supposed to be, names in the paper. Never were they supposed to be someone she knew, someone she loved.

In a haze of shock and calming draught, she waited outside the dungeon door to the Potions classroom, leaning into Harry for support. Who knows how long the numbness of shock might have held her if at that very moment Malfoy and his cronies hadn't shown up.

Malfoy slung his arm over Pansy's shoulders as he approached. As he walked past, he leaned in, hissing, "Two more filthy muggles down, eh, Granger?"

Hermione blinked from the pain of it, like she was waking from a long sleep. The shock and numbness were finally shoved aside by Malfoy's cruelty. Harry drew his wand and yelled at him to leave her alone. Neville stepped forward and drew his as well.

Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles and loomed menacingly. Pansy shrieked with laughter. But Malfoy just pinned Hermione with his gray eyes and smirked, knowing his remark had gutted her.

In that moment, her anger overcame her grief. Hermione drew her own wand and was about to hex his bollocks off, plan or no plan. In that moment, she would have sacrificed the victory of the entire war for a cheap shoot at Malfoy's bits. Ron, bless him, was her unwitting savior. Predictably, he took a poke at Malfoy muggle-style, and just as predictably, Professor Snape showed up and gave him detention.

She couldn't hold Malfoy, the mighty bouncing ferret, hostage if he was unable to produce an heir. _Stick to the plan_, she admonished herself. _Just stick to the plan, and hope like hell you won't have to sleep with him_. Briefly, she also wondered if she could _obliviate_ herself if she had to do the deed.

It was Malfoy's own words in front of the Potions classroom that sealed his fate. Everything was ready. Professor Snape had even finished her potions and sent them up with Dobby a few days ago. She was packed, the safe house was stocked, her lists were all crossed off. There wasn't a single reason to wait any longer.

Tomorrow, Draco Malfoy was going to pay for every cruel word, for every hex, for every smug little smirk he'd ever thrown her way. Tomorrow Draco Malfoy would rue the day he'd ever tangled with Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: As promised to my dear reviewers, here is chapter three, complete with realistic Malfoy-napping action.**

**If you haven't already, or even if you have, please give a review. I'd love to hear from you and I respond to each one of them personally.**

**Happy Malfoy-napping!**

**-Elvee**

* * *

Snatch

Chapter Three

"_Let's be naughty and save Santa the trip."_

-Gary Allan

Months of planning and preparation came down to this one day. Hermione sat across the Great Hall from Draco Malfoy and surreptitiously watched him over Harry's shoulder. It had been difficult to decide how to separate the blonde menace from his ever present body guards, but if Harry and Ron could do it in second year to sneak into the Slytherin common room, she certainly could in her sixth.

Professor Dumbledore assured her he would deliver the letter she'd written to Harry and Ron after she was gone so they wouldn't worry. She hugged them a little too long today, laughed a little too loudly at their jokes and took the time to try and memorize their faces when they weren't looking. She tried to be a better friend than she'd ever been, if only for a few more hours. It would hurt to leave them behind, but they all had a part to play in the war.

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, was his usual rotten, ferret-y self. He'd terrorized first years walking into the Great Hall at breakfast, shoved Padma Patil into a wall before lunch and sucked Pansy's pug face after Ancient Runes before dinner. According to Hannah Abbot, every Thursday night after Slytherin Quidditch practice, Malfoy and Parkinson could be found out at the field under the stands. Hermione didn't need three guesses to know what they were doing. Ew.

She finished up dinner and trailed along with Harry and Ron to the Griffindor common room. They sat huddled in a few comfortably worn chairs by the fire. The boys played wizarding chess, or rather, Ron played wizarding chess and Harry happily volunteered himself for the slaughter as Hermione pretended to read.

In reality, she was going over each and every detail of her plan. At quarter to eight, she told the boys she had to rush off to the library to pick up a reserved book. She dashed out of the common room, her beaded bag slung over her shoulder, forcing herself not to look back.

Hermione made an exception to the 'no running in the halls' rule, just this once. It was crucial to her plan that she not be late. When working alone, the element of surprise was not negotiable. She ran out the front doors and into the rose garden. She dove behind a large bush and waited in the shadows, trying to slow her breathing.

A few minutes later, she heard approaching footsteps. Pansy Parkinson was flouncing down the path, heading to the Quidditch pitch. Hermione slowly pulled her wand and checked her surroundings. They were completely alone.

With a well placed _stupefy_, Pansy crumpled to the ground. Hermione grabbed her ankles and with no small effort, dragged her behind the bush. She folded her legs up and arranged her arms so no one could see her before she came to. With trembling fingers, Hermione took an empty vial marked _Parkinson_ from her robe pocket and popped the cork.

With a very satisfying yank on Pansy's head, she grabbed a handful of the unconscious girl's hair. She stuffed all but one strand into the vial, stoppered it and tucked it away. She fished out another vial, this one filled with a muddy substance. Carefully, she dropped the final strand of Pansy's hair in the goopy mixture. It turned a burned orange color.

Hermione didn't have the best luck with polyjuice potion. In second year it had taken weeks to be rid of the tail, fur and cat ears she'd grown. Sure, this time she'd tried to eliminate outside contaminates, but it was still human nature to be once bitten, twice shy. She eyed the orange glop distastefully, held her nose and drank it down. Ugh! Pansy tasted like earwax! Hermione coughed and spluttered, and tried not to gag.

Giving Pansy one last stupefy to the chest to buy her more time, she dashed out from behind the bushes and ran to the pitch. She ducked under the stands near the changing rooms and leaned up against one of the wooden supports, tucking her hands behind her to hide the fact she was armed.

The Slytherin players left the changing rooms in ones and twos. Hermione was almost afraid she'd missed Malfoy when he came out with Crabbe and Goyle in tow. He walked right by her in the deep shadows under the seats. She could smell Crabbe and Goyle as they walked past, making her eyes water.

Hermione cleared her throat and said in her most seductive voice, "Hey Drakey! Good practice."

Malfoy spun around, spotting her. "Pans! I thought you had detention with McGonagall." Crabbe and Goyle turned around and stood waiting for him.

She sauntered out of the shadows, keeping her hands behind her, flaunting Pansy's big chest. "It got postponed."

Draco gave a predatory smile and took a step closer. Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a look, rolling their eyes.

Hermione took a step backward into the shadows with a sexy smile. "Get lost you two!" She snarled at Crabbe and Goyle. Turning her attention back to Malfoy, she purred, "Drakey and I want to be alone." She took another few steps back under the stands.

Draco handed his broom to Crabbe and waved them off. He smirked and followed her under the stands.

Hermione felt her back hit one of the large wooden supports deep in the shadows and waited as Malfoy's shadowy form approached. She had to wait long enough for Crabbe and Goyle to be out of ear shot.

Malfoy, on the other hand had closed the distance between them in a few long strides. Hunger was written all over his face. He wound a hand around the back of her neck and tugged at her hair before attacking her mouth with his. His tongue roughly parted her lips, and before she knew it, his tongue was down her throat. He smelled of clean sweat and faint traces of expensive cologne.

To date, the only other person Hermione had ever kissed was Victor Krum, and his kisses had been nothing like this. Malfoy was an octopus, his hands were everywhere, roaming freely over her body.

_This is not my body_, she reminded herself. _This is Pansy's body_. But if that was the truth, then why was she feeling a melting sensation in the pit of her stomach? She struggled to catch her breath as he trailed kisses down her jaw and hit a sensitive spot underneath her ear. She giggled reflexively from the ticklish sensation and felt him smile against her skin as he attacked her neck.

Using her free hand, she pressed Draco's head further into the crook of her neck and shoulder, pushing him out of the way as she tried to see past him. Encouraged, Draco groaned and sucked harder. She managed to catch a glimpse of Crabbe and Goyle disappearing over the hill in the waning light. Draco was still laving her neck with his tongue, teasing it with his lips. It was sending the oddest tingling sensations spiraling out from her belly button.

_Merlin, who knew the ferret could kiss like this?_ She blinked. What was she doing? She was on a mission. "Draco?" Her words came out with a groan and a husky whisper.

"Mmmm." He didn't break contact with the sensitive skin on her neck, working his way back up to her lips.

She tightened her grip on her wand and tried again, "Draco?" Slowly she brought her wand into position, pointing it at his back.

"Yeah?" He panted, between planting kisses on her jaw.

"Stupefy!" Draco crumpled to the ground, boneless from the stunning spell. Hermione spat several times in disgust. "The things I do for this bloody war!" She hissed angrily, roughly wiping her mouth with Pansy's sleeve.

She searched Malfoy's pockets, emptying them and finding his wand. Without a second thought, she snapped his wand and put it in her own pocket. She laid him out on the ground, straightening his arms and legs, and for good measure she cast an _incarcerus_ spell. It wrapped his hands and feet in tight black cords.

When she was sure he was secure, she fished in her pocket for the 'Weasley is Our King' badge. Pressing it to Malfoy's chest with her left hand, she tapped it with her wand, saying, "_Portus_."

The familiar sensation of a coat hanger yanking her along from behind her bellybutton made her slightly nauseated. They landed with a thud on a bare wooden floor. Hermione quickly scrambled off Malfoy and looked around. Although she had been the one to make the arrangements for this place, she'd never seen it in person.

It was a tiny one room cabin, rather rustic in construction. A narrow iron bed sat underneath a window along the left wall. A small wooden table and two chairs stood in the center, situated in front of a large iron heating and cooking stove. On one side of the stove was a small kitchenette, on the other was a large pile of firewood. In the far corner was a toilet, surrounded by an ugly floral curtain. On the right wall was a large double bed, made up with thick blankets and plump pillows. With all the furniture, there was barely enough room to turn around. Immediately behind them was a door to the outside.

She lifted the short curtain from the glass on the door. Outside snow was piled high around a short walk that led to a dock. The water was choppy and gray, sloshing around as the spring snow continued to fall. The little cabin was situated on an island off the coast of Iceland. It was a tiny summer home, and the only structure on the island itself. Across the choppy bay water, she could just make out the pinprick lights of a muggle fishing village.

The cabin itself was dark and freezing. She lit the lantern Dobby had left on the table and busied herself getting the cabin warm and habitable. She loaded the stove with wood and lit a fire. She pumped water at the sink to fill the kettle and set it on top of the wood stove.

She dug through her bag until she found a book on extension charms. Double checking the complicated swishing movements, she charmed the cabin to triple in size. It was rather a difficult piece of magic, and illegal in Britain without a permit from the Ministry. When everything shifted apart, and the room expanded she gave a self- satisfied nod.

This cabin would do very nicely. In a few hours, when the stove had warmed it up, it would be quite homey. She was just getting ready to unpack when she heard a groan from the floor. Malfoy was coming around.

Casting a quick _petrificus totalis_ jinx, she crossed the floor and looked down into his face. She smirked, "Scared yet, Malfoy?" She let the question hang between them, knowing he couldn't answer. Methodically, she began to tap her wand at each piece of his clothing. With a murmured _inflagrante_ jinx, each piece disappeared. Stepping back, she surveyed her work. He was trussed up on the wooden floor, stiff as a board, in nothing but his boxers. "You should be."

She spotted the Dark Mark burned into his arm and frowned. Malfoy may be a prat, but he was far too young to wear that permanent mark that would condemn him for the rest of his life. Even if he wanted it, Hermione was sure Malfoy had no idea what he was truly asking for. Voldemort had no right to do that to him.

She levitated Malfoy onto the narrow iron bed, fixing his hands to the headboard and his feet to the foot board with conjured iron hooks. She fished in her beaded bag and found an afghan her grandmother had crocheted. It was lacy, as most intricate crochet was, and had large holes in the pretty pattern. She threw it over him.

The kettle whistled, and she crossed to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of tea. The cupboards were crammed full, and each one was protected by a stasis spell, just as she had asked for. Digging deeper, she found the cupboards were far deeper than the outside wall of the cabin would have allowed. Dobby had really outdone himself. She'd have to do something nice for him.

She took her tea to the table and flopped tiredly into a chair. It had been a long day, but a satisfying one. She took Malfoy's broken wand out of her pocket and set it on the table, smiling at it. Stage one of her plan was complete and aside from having her tonsils attacked by Malfoy, it had gone off without a hitch. Before her cup of tea was finished, she felt the strange bubbling effect of the polyjuice potion as it began to wear off.

When her transformation back to herself was complete, lazily she began to transfigure pieces of firewood into bookshelves and a large dresser. Just as she was finishing, she heard a groan from the iron bed. Her petrification jinx had worn off.

"Pansy?" Malfoy called weakly. She smirked, lifted her fresh cup of tea and blew the steam off, waiting. Malfoy tugged at his arms and legs. He thrashed around, then seeing her, he snarled, "Granger! What the hell is going on? What did Pansy do with my clothes? Where the hell..."

"Comfy?" She asked, her voice calm and calculated.

"Where is Pansy? You filthy Mudblood! If you've done anything to her, I swear I'll..."

"I haven't done anything to her, _Drakey_." She smirked, emphasizing the last word with malice.

His gray eyes clouded with confusion. "But she..."

"_She_ didn't do anything, _Drakey_. And if you ever kiss me again, I'll hex your bollocks so hard your children will feel it." She forced a sweet smile and took a long gulp of tea. "I'm still trying to get the taste of ferret out of my mouth."

Then it dawned on him, exactly who he was kissing under the Quidditch bleachers. His eyes glittered as he ground out, "I'll kill you for this, Mudblood."

Hermione waved her wand at him and cast a non-verbal _silencio _charm, effectively shutting him up. "I think you'll find you're a little out gunned, ferret." She held up his broken wand and his eyes widened in response. "If I were you, I'd try to be a bit more courteous or life could get quite a bit more difficult."

She stood slowly and deliberately crossed to stand over him. With a smirk, she tugged the blanket off his form, leaving him uncovered in the cold cabin. He tried to protest, but she ignored him, simply folding up the blanket and placing it at the foot of her own bed.

"You'll have the opportunity to earn privileges. For example, the blanket I just took was a privilege. Clothes, food or even a bath could also be a privilege." He was shivering now. "While you're here nothing is free, Malfoy. Nothing."

She smirked, added more wood to the fire and began to unpack.

Long after the silencing spell had worn off, Malfoy remained quiet. He shivered, tugging at his bonds occasionally and glaring at her, but at least he wasn't yelling. By two in the morning, she'd unpacked everything she thought might be safe to have laying around in case Malfoy got loose. Everything else she left in her beaded bag. She went behind the curtain in the corner and changed into warm flannel pajamas.

Before retiring, she dug a vial of sleeping potion out of her bag and crossed to Malfoy's bed. She held up the vial. "Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?"

He glared at her face, then at the vial. He didn't respond.

She shrugged, "The hard way it is, then." She stunned him and cast a healer's swallowing charm, forcing him to take the potion. "Nighty-night, ferret."

Once she was absolutely sure the potion had taken effect, she took several long cords out of her beaded bag. Canceling the incarcerous spell, she tied him up securely with the cords, spreading his arms and legs to each of the four corners of the bed. Aside from the Dark Mark, his skin was perfectly pale, and a bit chilly.

She almost caved in and settled the afghan back over him, but stopped herself. He'd have to earn his rewards, or she'd have a hell of a time controlling him. Even without his wand, he outweighed her by sixty or seventy pounds. He would be stronger and faster. Following her plan was the best way to keep him from overpowering her. His Mudblood comment had earned him a cold night. He'd made his bed, now he could lie in it.

It was after two in the morning when she banked the fire, stuffing it with logs to burn through the night, and rolled the thick layers of blankets back on her bed. Tomorrow was going to be another busy day and to be honest, no matter how much he deserved it, she wasn't looking forward to what she'd have to do.

When Hermione woke in the morning, the table was already set for her solitary breakfast, but Dobby was nowhere to be found, as they had agreed. Eggs, toast, jam, porridge, bacon and hot coffee steamed invitingly. She changed quickly and checked on Malfoy. He was still sleeping off the potion, and his bonds were still tied tight.

She dug in her bag, pulling out a wrinkled off-white stone and set it next to her plate. She downed a cup of coffee quickly, pleased to find the cup refilled itself from the pot warming on the stove. She lingered over her breakfast, waiting to eat until her prisoner was awake. Today, the psychological warfare would begin.

When he shifted on the bed, she dug hungrily into her breakfast. Her silverware scraped against the plate, and her cup made soft thuds as she placed it on the table. She purposefully blew the steam from her cinnamon porridge in his direction.

"Sleep well?" She asked with a smirk, chewing on a piece of crispy bacon.

"I froze my ass off, as you very well know, Granger." Malfoy growled.

"Shouldn't have called me Mudblood, ferret." She held a piece of toast in front of her mouth and caught his eyes following it hungrily. She smirked. "Hungry?"

"You know I am." He grumbled.

She took a large bite of toast and jam, chewed it and swallowed before saying, "Just checking." She finished every morsel on her plate with relish then banished the dishes to the sink.

Picking up the little wrinkled stone, she brought it over to his bed, holding it up. "Do you know what this is?"

He rolled his eyes. "Aren't you going to get me breakfast?"

She huffed and shook the little stone. "Do you know what this is?" She repeated with exasperation.

"Listen, Granger, I'm hungry. We can play twenty questions after breakfast. Now get me some food." He commanded.

"This is a bezoar," she said in her swottiest tone. "It happens to be the only one I could get my hands on before I left."

He pouted when she ignored his command and barreled on ahead. "I know it's a bezoar. Big deal, Granger. Get me some food!" His cheeks were turning pink from his temper and his eyes flashed.

"For six years," she continued, "You have done nothing but harass Harry, Ron and I. You've been a complete git. You've jinxed us, called us names, and even tried to poison Harry with that little snake stunt in the dueling club." She paused for effect here. "You're not the only one that can cast a _serpensortia_ jinx, Malfoy."

His eyes grew wide at her implication, and his mouth gaped, "Granger! You wouldn't dare! That's a dark spell!"

"Wouldn't I?" She gave an evil smirk, even though inside her guts were churning, _Stick with the plan_, she told herself. "I need information. You have information. Unfortunately for you, I also have to go out and run errands today. It's hard to escape if you're busy dying of poison, isn't it?" She made a show of putting the bezoar in her pocket.

"Granger! Don't! You can't!" His eyes were alight with panic, he thrashed against his bonds to no effect.

"I need to know everything you do about the Death Eaters in the Inner Circle. What are their names?" She crossed back to the kitchen table, conjured parchment, quill and ink and looked up expectantly.

"I can't! Granger, he'll kill me!" The bed frame was rattling as he struggled.

"He can't kill you if he can't find you. Right now the only person in the world who knows where you are is me. Answer the question, Malfoy." Her guts were still churning. She didn't want to poison him, not if she didn't have to. The quote 'monsters we are lest monsters we become' was spinning around her head. She didn't want to be a monster. "Don't make me do this," fell out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"Granger, he'll kill my mother!" he yelled, his chest heaving with panic.

Pain at the reminder of her own mother's death flooded her. She stood from the table and crossed to stand over him. Before she could think about it, she smoothed a long strand of hair out of his eyes. "What about_ my_ mother?" She snatched her hand back as a tiny flicker of pity crossed his face. When she finally spoke again, her voice was tight with control, "Last chance, Malfoy. I want names."

"Nott. Theo's dad. He's one. My Aunt Bellatrix..."

Hermione rushed back to the table to make notes.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Ahhh, Amortentia. Heaven or Hell? Truce or subterfuge?**

**Please review if you have a moment. I love hearing from you guys! I don't want to beg, but they really do keep me rolling right along.**

**-Elvee**

* * *

Snatch

Chapter Four

"_I'm also a fan of ridiculously patterned socks."_

-Daniel Radcliffe

Hermione set her quill on the table and sat back to double check her work. She'd taken the names that Draco provided and tried to put them in an organizational chart. It was obvious there were big holes in his information, but it was enough to get started.

Crossing to the dresser she opened a drawer and pulled out a single wool sock. It was lime green with little Christmas trees all over it. Dobby's taste was certainly unique. She couldn't help but smirk. "Okay Malfoy, you've earned a sock."

"A sock? Granger, I'm hungry."Malfoy whined.

He should have been thankful. According to the plan, she shouldn't have offered the damn sock at all considering she had to threaten him. She stopped on her way back to the bed. "If you don't want it, fine." She turned on her heel and put it back in the dresser.

She shoved the last of the wood into the furnace, using her wand to clean up the bark and dust.

"Are you going to feed me or what?" Malfoy asked.

"Food is a privilege. Would you like the opportunity to earn some food?" She picked up the curtain and looked out the window. The snow was still swirling outside. A good six inches had piled up on the shoveled walk. The wood shed was about thirty paces away from the door in the deep snow. Four trips ought to give them enough wood for the night.

"What do you mean 'earn'?" Suspicion crawled across his face.

"You're going to bring in firewood." Hermione said, pulling on her jacket and gloves.

"Fine. Whatever."

Hermione conjured a pair of shackles and linked his ankles together with the iron cuffs before loosening the knots and letting his legs free. She conjured an identical pair of shackles and fixed the cuff over his left hand. Just as she was freeing it, Malfoy yanked her down onto the bed, trying to wrestle her wand away.

"Stupefy!" She yelled, and laid panting over Malfoy's limp form. Her left wrist was bruised. She dragged her fingers over her temple where he'd hit her with the loose iron cuff in the short struggle. It came back bloody. Cursing, she heaved herself off him, and vanished his boxers out of spite before getting a hold of herself and looking him over.

A line of fine blonde hairs led down to his sleeping manhood. Hermione hadn't seen a man naked in the flesh yet, and the sudden implications of what she'd done shocked her. She blushed right down to the roots of her bushy hair. It wasn't the fact that she'd seen a man's anatomy that made her blush, books were full of anatomical drawings. It was the fact that through her own anger, she'd just made Malfoy – of all men- her first. Angry as she was, she couldn't help her eyes roving. Sure, he had tight, neat hips and broad shoulders, and pectoral muscles that had been refined from playing Quidditch. Okay, fine! He was beautiful.

That only served to make her even more angry.

"Bloody ferret!" She fastened the iron cuff on his limp right hand, then cut his other arm loose. She fastened the chains in between his feet and hands to the iron hooks before tending to her head.

He was much stronger than she'd figured. That brief struggle had been scary. If she was honest with herself, she knew he'd try to test her. It was only a matter of time. It was better it happened sooner rather than later. As little as she relished having a naked Malfoy in the room with her, she had to punish him for his little test. If he tried again, she'd vanish the bed and he could sleep on the bare floor.

As she dug through her bag for the dittany, she caught a view of one of the ten vials of Amortentia. She had been planning on keeping it as a last resort. But maybe, just maybe, she'd have to do some research on _other_ uses. Potions did different things in different doses. Maybe a drop or two would relax him a bit around her, or maybe, he'd be madly in love with her for ten minutes. The first result could be very useful, the second would be a pain in the neck. She resolved to research whatever she could find in her limited stash of books.

She still had some very important things to do. She fished a small box out of her beaded bag and called for Dobby. When the elf appeared with a crack, she said, "Dobby, I have a secret mission for you. Take this to Diagon Alley and mail it to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Use a disguise and don't let anyone see you."

Dobby bowed low and taking the box, disappeared with another crack.

From the iron bed, Malfoy groaned. Hermione scowled, and tugged her hat and boots on. She threw the door wide open and trudged across the thick snow to the woodshed. She levitated a pile of firewood and brought it inside, pausing to stomp the snow off her boots.

The wind swirled inside the cabin and Malfoy yelled, "Granger! Close the door! Whats the matter with you? Were you born in a barn?"

Hermione ignored him and made a few extra trips for good measure. The stack of firewood now replenished, she put the kettle on and pulled a few potions books down off her shelf.

"Why am I naked?" He leered at her, "What's the matter Granger? Can't get a willing wizard, so you have to resort to kidnapping?"

"You broke the rules." She said evenly, careful to avoid looking at him. Hermione refused to take the bait, instead fishing in the cupboard for the tea and biscuits.

He struggled to look around on the bed, "Where's my sock? I earned a sock. Where is it?"

"You said you didn't want it. You'll have another chance to earn clothes later." She spooned the tea in the pot and waited for the kettle.

"Where'd the blood come from?" Malfoy had tucked his chin to his chest and was staring at a large smear of red across his white chest.

"You hit me in the head with your manacle before I stunned you." The kettle whistled and she poured her tea, taking it over to the table and opening the top book on her stack, intent on finding more information on low doses of love potions.

At first he smirked, probably at the thought of hurting her. Then his face fell. "That's yours? Bloody hell, Granger! Get it off me! You're contaminating me!" Malfoy yelled, squirming and straining against the chains that bound him.

Hermione turned a page, saying quietly, "Baths are a privilege." She picked up a chocolate biscuit and nibbled on it.

His eyes locked on the biscuit, watching it touch her lips, watching every crumb bounce neatly on her plate. "Com'on, just one biscuit, Granger! I'm starving!" He howled.

She only looked up from her reading long enough to point her wand at him and cast another _silencio_ charm. "You won't actually starve for two more days. Maybe less because you're shivering." She shrugged and went back to her reading. Two hours, four biscuits and three potions books later and she still hadn't found a single thing.

What she really needed was a potion of like, or better yet, trust. But as far as she knew, no such thing existed. She would never stoop to using the _Imperius_ curse. After all, she wasn't one of _them_. There was always a logical solution to any problem given enough time and thought. Try as she might, she couldn't see a way around it. Inwardly, she groaned. She'd have to experiment.

Malfoy had worked himself into a sulk. He pouted listlessly on the bed, every once in a while jangling his chains as he shifted position.

She reshelved the books with a sigh, pulling her cold weather gear back on. "Are you comfortable?"

"Oh, yeah, just ducky, Granger." He drawled.

"I have to go out." She cast a _petrificus totalis_ on him and walked out into the snow. She had to reinforce Dobby's wards and put up a few of her own. The snow was deep and hard to move through. It was going to take much longer than she thought. After only a third of the island was done, she went back inside to check on Malfoy.

Apparently, twenty minutes was too long to leave him alone. When she returned to the house, the feathers from his flat pillow were all over his corner of the room. It was her own fault for leaving him so long. She'd gotten side tracked in trying to complete her anti-apparition wards. He was Malfoy, ferret extraordinaire, and he wasn't going to make this any easier than he had to. Without a word she vanished the pillow, re-petrified him and went back outside to finish the wards. This time she kept a closer eye on the time.

After three more trips, two to complete the wards and one to test them, she was frozen through. She trudged back in the cabin, stripped her cold weather clothes off and wrapped in a blanket by the fire. Thankfully, Dobby had set a bowl of steaming stew and fresh bread on the table. She wrapped herself in her grandmother's afghan and moved the chair closer to the stove.

She ate her stew with her back to him, longing for a soak in a hot bath. The plan was swimming along nicely. Lucius would get the package with her letter and the muggle cell phone she'd charmed in a few hours. If he followed instructions, he'd be calling in two days. Malfoy was a pain in her ass, but he was still subdued, even if he had lost almost every privilege she gave him. Thinking about his vanished boxers, she blushed again, glad he couldn't see it.

How could he be so perfect on the outside, and so very rotten on the inside? It was people like him that killed her parents. With that single thought, the scab that had formed over her grief for her parents cracked painfully. She fought it with everything she had. She didn't want to break down in front of Malfoy, in front of just another Death Eater. She argued with the tears that threatened to fall. Unfortunately for her, the tears weren't in the mood to argue, and she sniffled.

"Granger?" Malfoy said softly.

She ignored him as two more fat tears wound their way down her face. She was so tired, and now that she was stuck in this cabin with Malfoy, it suddenly hit her how utterly alone she was. A small, traitorous sob escaped.

"Merlin! Are you crying?" Chains jangled behind her. He must have been a really good actor. He sounded concerned.

She gave a huge sniff and wiped her face, continuing to ignore him.

Malfoy sighed. "Granger, look, no harm's been done. Just let me go and..."

"_Silencio!_" She stopped his wheedling mid-sentence. "Don't you get it? You're just as alone as I am. Think about it. You didn't kill Dumbledore. You failed. Voldemort knows you've been kidnapped. That's the only thing keeping your parents alive. If I don't keep you here, your whole family is dead."

Shock was pasted all over his face. She gave a bitter laugh, "You didn't think I knew? Of course I knew! You were about as subtle as a blast-ended skrewt! For your information, I didn't bring you here to kill you. You might be a stupid ferret, Malfoy, but that doesn't mean I think you deserve to die. I brought you here to save you, you ungrateful wretch."

She stomped over to his bed and poked him in the chest. "Do us both a favor when I lift this spell. Don't pretend to be nice. Don't pretend to care. You're not fooling me. I may have saved your family's life, but I did it for my own reasons. If you don't start getting with the program I _will_ let you starve."

That night, Malfoy swallowed his sleeping potion without her having to resort to a charm. She gave him the choice of a sock or breakfast. He chose breakfast. She left a note on the table for Dobby.

Once she was quite sure he was asleep, she conjured a copper tub and filled it to the brim with steaming hot water. She might see Malfoy naked, but that didn't mean he got to see her. She allowed herself a few minutes to scrub and relax before vanishing the water and scrubbing the tub with a quick spell. She threw on her pajamas and fell into an exhausted sleep.

In the morning, she dressed quickly, checked Malfoy's bonds and looked over the piles of food on the table. She placed two drops of Amortentia in the empty tea cup. She made Malfoy a plate and sipped her own tea until he woke.

When at last the chains jangled, she poured his tea and brought it over to him. Carefully she propped it in his left hand. Checking to be sure he could reach his mouth with the cup, she turned back for a spoon.

Malfoy smacked his lips together, then said, "This tea tastes funny, Granger."

"Probably not your usual brand. Not all of us are made of money." She picked up the spoon, spooned diced apples, sugar and cinnamon over the porridge and went to sit on the side of his bed. She stirred his porridge and filled the spoon.

He made a face. "I can feed myself."he snapped.

She shrugged and put the bowl of porridge on his chest before returning to her own breakfast. She covertly watched him struggling to reach his own spoon with either of his manacled hands. He couldn't. She finished eating, waiting until his struggles ceased. She banished her dishes to the sink and collected his bowl.

He panicked, "Wait! Where are you going with that?" His entire body was tensed against the chains, straining to reach for the food.

"Breakfast is over. It's time to do the dishes." She said non-nonchalantly.

"But I didn't get to eat!" He protested.

"I offered." She shrugged, beginning to turn away.

"Granger!" Malfoy called to stop her from walking away. "Granger, I'm sorry. Will you help me?"

After deliberating for a moment she nodded curtly and sat on the side of his bed. She cast a heating charm over the now cold porridge and gave it a few stirs before holding a full spoon to his lips.

He groaned when the food hit his mouth, chewing with relish.

"You need to eat a little slower, we don't want you to get sick." She filled the spoon again and watched as he ate until the bowl was empty. "More porridge or toast?"

"Toast." At her raised eyebrow, he added grudgingly, "Please."

She handed him two pieces of buttered toast. When he finished that, she gave him another cup of strong tea. Just as she was thinking the potion should have begun working, Malfoy abruptly stopped eating and sniffed the air.

"You smell good, Granger." His gray eyes held an unfamiliar flicker of something she couldn't identify.

She blinked, then laughed, "I wish I could say the same. Bacon?" When he nodded she handed him two pieces and went to refill his tea.

"I'm sorry I hurt you yesterday." he said between mouthfuls, watching every move she made.

Hermione shrugged, taking careful mental notes on his change of attitude. "I expected it to happen sooner or later." She handed him another steaming cup of tea.

As he brought the cup to his lips, he winced in pain. The cup shattered on the floor, tea spattering everywhere. "He's summoning me." He said through gritted teeth.

"Merlin! You mean that thing," she motioned to his Dark Mark, "actually hurts when he calls you?"

"Did I burn you?" He looked her up and down, she was covered in spilled tea.

"I'm fine." She waved his concern away, before bringing the conversation back to a much more important subject, "You mean he can still reach you here?"

"He can reach me anywhere, Hermione." He was pulling his left arm so tightly against the shackle, the entire bed shook.

"Murtlap essence!" She rummaged through her beaded bag, pulling out a bottle of clear green liquid. She conjured a flannel and soaked it with the liquid. She leaned over him and pressed the compress to his arm.

Little beads of sweat erupted across his forehead. His face was contorted in pain. She watched him intently. He huffed out a few breaths, then the shaking of the bed stopped. "Any better?" she asked.

"A little." He admitted. "Thanks." He was still wound tight as a spring, but at least now his pulling against the manacle wasn't hard enough to break his wrist.

She thought for a minute. "What about Magicaine? Have you ever tried that?"

He gave a short laugh, "Usually you just touch your wand to the Mark and go when He summons you. If we defy Him, we're dead."

"It wouldn't hurt to try." Her mind was whirring. She grabbed her beaded bag and pulled out a cauldron.

Malfoy gave another cry of distress. When she'd jumped off the bed, the medicated flannel had fallen from the Mark.

"Oh!" She ran back over and pressed the flannel back to his skin. He was visibly soothed. "How long does it usually last?"

"A few minutes. I'll be fine." He said through gritted teeth.

"What makes you think I'd just let you suffer?" She sniped.

"I deserve it. After everything I've done, I deserve a lot worse than that." He mumbled.

She searched his face for traces of a lie. Not finding any left her confused and with no other option than to blame the potion. Malfoy was naked, perfect and admitting he was a complete prat. It was the fulfillment of a long time fantasy. She was about to remind herself to stick with the plan, but the plan went out the window when she'd lied about saving him and tried to treat his Dark Mark. A naked, contrite Malfoy was most certainly getting under her skin. That was something that simply couldn't happen.

"Just shut up and hold still," she ground out.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This is the best quote ****ever**** for this chapter. 'Nuff said.**

**Please review. I'm working hard for ya, here. Show some love for the artist.**

**-Elvee**

* * *

Snatch

Chapter Five

"_I'll take my clothes off – whatever the job requires."_

-Tom Felton

The leather bound journal Professor Dumbledore had given Hermione wasn't a really journal at all. In fact, it was a covert way to communicate with Professor Snape. The Potions Master had an identical journal and they were both enchanted with a _protean_ charm, just like the coins the DA used. What Hermione wrote, he could read and vice versa.

The new touchy-feely Malfoy was making her uneasy, to put it mildly. He'd volunteered to bring in the fire wood about an hour after his Mark had settled down. She'd let him, but of course he still had to do it in chains and in the buff. It was still snowing.

After he'd finished, his lips, toes and fingers had been blue, his manhood had recessed to boyhood, and his teeth were chattering uncontrollably. She took pity on him and shackled him to a chair close to the fire. Pity wasn't part of the plan. Neither was the blanket she'd wrapped him in or the damn cup of cocoa she'd given him. She was turning into a softie.

Well, at least he wasn't naked any more.

When she remembered the journal, she could have kicked herself. She should have done this first. _Brightest witch of my age, my arse_, she thought acidly. Hermione had allowed him to fluster her and to be honest, when she got hurt, it had scared her just a little. She sat at the table, her quill scratching over the journal. She wrote:

_In your professional opinion, what effect would a low dose of Amortentia have on a subject? Say, for example, two drops on a full grown male? Expedient reply requested._

It only took a few moments before a reply surfaced, the ink appearing on the page under her inquiry as if he was writing it in front of her.

_What have you done?_

She huffed angrily, then scribbled a quick reply.

_Well, I wasn't sure if kicking the dog would hurt his master. He isn't very obedient. Do you have an answer or don't you? Sir._

She added that last word as an afterthought. Best not to get him too riled or she'd never get an answer from the prickly Potions Master.

"Something wrong?" Malfoy asked, turning awkwardly against his straining shackles to catch her eye as she sat behind him at the table.

"What?" She looked up to find his gray eyes full of concern. "No. No, everything's fine. Just a hypothetical potions question I'm trying to work out."

"I'm pretty good with potions, Hermione. Can I help?" And there was that potion-induced lunacy again. Malfoy would never... Wait...

Her head snapped up and she glared at him, "Did you just call me Hermione?" He gave her a half sideways- half upside down shrug. "Don't," she snapped.

"What? It's your name," he said with absolutely no trace of guile in his voice at all.

"It is the name my friends call me." She wagged a finger between them, indicating the two of them. "_We_ are not friends. I kidnapped you."

He gave a genuine smile, the kind of smile he'd never given her in six long years. "Ah! But you said yourself you only kidnapped me to save my life. That alone should make us friends." His gray eyes were filled with conviction, his smile had triumph written all over it.

She looked back at the journal. No answer. Damn. Malfoy dropped the afghan to the floor at his feet. His broad, pale shoulders reflected the firelight like alabaster. She blinked as her mouth went dry, then yelled, "What'd you do that for?"

He shrugged and smiled again. "I was hot." Merlin, it was a beautiful smile. Mentally, she kicked herself. _Control yourself, Granger._

"Just cover up, Malfoy." She looked at the journal again. Nothing. Damnable git of a potions master. Get a move on! Didn't he know this was important? She could always kill Malfoy and hit two birds with one stone.

"Why? You've already seen me naked. It's not like I'm going to shock you." This time he smirked. "Besides, I thought you liked what you saw." He winked at her as he hung his head nearly upside down to face her. On anyone else it would have been adorable, but Malfoy was a Death Eater.

"Cover up or you're losing your fire privileges." She warned, her eyes narrowing.

"Fine by me! I'm nice and toasty." He winked – actually winked- at her!

She slammed the journal shut. This was getting ridiculous. "Fine! _Petrificus Totalis!_" With a wave of her wand, she unshackled him from the chair and levitated him back over on the bed. She secured him back to the bed frame with an indignant sniff, all the while avoiding looking anywhere in his general 'manly' area.

She picked the afghan up off the floor, folded it carefully and put it at the foot of her bed before canceling his petrification spell.

"You know, Hermione, I've got to hand it to you. You've got this whole kidnapping thing down," he said as his body relaxed. "You're actually a lot more Slytherin than I gave you credit for."

"Put a sock in it, Malfoy," she said waspishly.

He sighed dramatically, then smirked again, "I would. But I don't seem to have any socks at the moment."

She stomped to the table and dropped heavily back into her chair. She opened the journal again, finding no reply, she slapped it shut with a smack to the leather cover and tucked it back in her beaded bag. She stirred her second cup of cocoa absently, wondering how to out-ferret a ferret.

She could certainly do the obvious and just outright ask him to marry her. If he said yes, she'd know it was the potion. Draco Malfoy would never stoop to marrying a Mudblood. He would never sully the Malfoy name, and he _had_ to know she'd rather be run over by rampaging hippogryphs before she'd marry him. No, that would be too obvious. If he was playing nice, he'd say anything he thought she might want to hear. In all his vain, arrogant, snooty thinking, of course he'd say yes, thinking that was exactly what any girl would want to hear from him. Then where would she be?

Merlin, she hated Slytherins.

She could kiss him and see if he spit afterward. She pulled a face. She wasn't looking forward to a repeat of _that_ fiasco. She didn't own a toothbrush that would reach her tonsils. She'd tried. She frowned. Anyway she looked at it, his voluntary behavior was _not_ to be trusted. Draco Malfoy was an excellent liar. This wasn't going to be as easy as she thought.

Something clicked in her brain. Voluntary behavior. She gave a soft, evil smile. If she hadn't heard back from Professor Snape after dinner, she knew exactly what she was going to do. It was scientific, foolproof and utterly ferret-y.

That is, if she had the nerve to do it. She screwed up her courage. Of course she did. It was for science.

Or not. She dropped her face into her palms and shook her head. Merlin, Malfoy was going to kill her yet.

By late afternoon, Malfoy had earned a sock for washing the dishes and shoveling the walk. He'd wanted her to put it on his penis, and she'd thrown it at him. After a full half hour of apologizing, she finally put it on his left foot. He also got another cup of cocoa and a stint by the stove shackled to his chair on the condition he stayed wrapped in the blanket. He'd asked for more chores to do, but she refused. It wouldn't do to break the dynamic she'd worked so hard to establish too soon. She also didn't trust him as far as she could throw him.

Hell, who was she kidding? After she gave him the second cup of cocoa, she didn't trust herself at all.

How she missed having access to a real library! She needed to do some serious research on the effects of excessive silencing spells. Too many _stupefy_ spells were certainly bad, but Hermione was hexing him all afternoon just to keep him from flirting with her, or playing with her head, or whatever he was doing.

She wasn't about to sit around and watch him make puppy dog eyes at her from the bed, so she hauled out her pewter cauldron and began to make the Magicaine salve. Thankfully, the recipe was a complicated mess and she had something to completely focus all of her attention on. It was finally cooling to a lavender scented pink balm when dinner appeared on the table.

Hermione ate quickly, not offering Malfoy a bite. Surprisingly, he didn't ask for one either. She banished the dishes to the sink and checked the journal.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Crap.

Maybe she could write a love letter and 'drop' it on his bed. _Good idea_, her frantic mind thought. Jealousy was a human emotion. If the love potion worked at all, he'd have to say something. Even if he didn't, his behavior would certainly change. Her 'evil' plan was better and she knew it, but even Godric Griffindor must have had his limits.

The only problem was _who_ to write this pretend letter to. She hadn't snogged anyone since Viktor in fourth year. Malfoy himself certainly didn't count. He couldn't be jealous of himself, especially while she was polyjuiced to look like Pansy. Being frank, she knew the bossy know-it-all personality she had caused most boys her age to run for the hills. Men liked to be the white knights, the strong protectors, the providers. Hermione didn't need any of that. She just wanted someone who loved her for just who she was. She also needed him to stand still long enough for her to love him back. Unfortunately, that guy simply didn't exist.

Guys didn't go for little bushy-haired bookworms. That was just the way the world worked, and up until now, it never seemed to matter. She was far too young to worry about falling in love, getting married and having children. She'd get her education, find a great job, then worry about all that tosh. Still, it hurt that she wasn't appreciated by the boys in her year.

This morose line of thinking was getting her nowhere fast. She needed a pretend boyfriend, and she needed one now. It couldn't be just anyone, it had to fool the ferret across the room that saw her everyday at school. They knew all the same people. If anything had changed in school, Malfoy would have noticed. That's when it hit her.

She managed to stall having to go through with her 'evil' plan by writing a pretend love letter to Viktor. In it she poured her pretend heart out about how much she missed him, how she couldn't wait to have his little uni-browed spawn, how she longed to feel his lips on hers and how she couldn't wait until the war was over and they could be together again at last. She signed it, _All the Love in My Heart, Hermione_.

That was how you signed one of those things, wasn't it? Wasn't that how Cyrano de Bergerac did it? Scrutinizing her work with a critic's eye, she realized she should have added some lines from _Romeo and Juliet_, but it was too late now. Done was done. She folded the letter and wrote Viktor's name on the outside.

Quietly, she put away her quill and ink bottle. She checked the journal one last time. What good was the bloody thing if he was never going to write back? She shoved it back in her beaded bag and fished out another sleeping draught.

"Bed time, is it?" Malfoy drawled as she checked his manacles.

"Yes." Accidentally- on purpose dropping the letter between his body and the wall as she checked his left wrist.

"You dropped something, Hermione," he said, pointing at it with his chin. "Looks like a letter."

She blushed and stuttered, "Oh. Th-thank you." She picked it up and stuffed it into the pocket of her robes. Damn, damn, and double damn. Now she'd have to go through with it.

She dragged the copper tub in front of the stove and lowered the lantern light with a wave of her wand. She began filling the tub with steaming water.

"What? No sleeping potion?" Malfoy asked, his eyebrow raising.

"Malfoy, you've been good all day. I only have so many potions. If you're going to give me trouble, I'll force another down your throat. But I'm going to ask your word, on your honor as a Malfoy, to just... be a gentleman tonight. I'm tired, stressed and I really need a bath. Could you just... promise me you won't look?" She asked plaintively.

He smirked, but held up his hands in mock surrender, "Be my guest, Hermione."

"I mean it, Malfoy. No peeking. Promise me." She stared at him until he answered.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm a guy, of course I'm going to look." His smirk got bigger and his eyes glittered with amusement. "Hey, I'm just being honest."

"Promise me, or I'll vanish your bed." She threatened, pouring lavender oil into the hot water.

"Fine. I promise. Jeez, Hermione, you're no fun." He huffed, turning his face to the wall.

Hermione began nervously to undress, checking frequently to make sure Malfoy was still staring at the wall. Somewhere Godric Griffindor was turning over in his grave.

"Smells good." Malfoy said.

Hermione's head snapped up as she was lowering her first foot into the tub. "You promised, Malfoy!"

"I'm not looking! Just making conversation." He was still staring at the wall.

She lowered herself in the hot water with a sigh of contentment. She didn't care if he peeked now, as a matter of fact, that was the plan. But she wasn't telling him that.

"Feel good?" He asked.

"Hmmm. Yesss." She wrung out her sponge in the steaming water and let it pour over her shoulders. "Now be quiet and let me enjoy my bath."

"Can't blame me, Hermione. I haven't had a bath in three days. I'm bathing vicariously through you." She heard him sniffing the air. "What kind of soap do you use?"

"Vanilla bean and verbena. I make it myself." She lathered the sponge and risked a peek over at Malfoy. He was still turned to the wall, or at least not blatantly looking. He was more in profile. Yep. Guys were pigs. She smirked. "It's amazing how dirty you get just doing nothing."

"You've got to soak first, you know. Let your pores open up. It lets the soap work better." His voice was quiet and in his profile she saw his tongue dart out to wet his lips.

_Eat your heart out_, she thought. "Mmmhmm. I know." She relaxed back into the tub. "Merlin, I love hot baths. Makes me all pink and tingly," she sighed, obviously content.

"Tell me about your shampoo. What does it smell like?" Was his voice husky? Just the sound of it almost sent a shiver up her spine. Almost.

"Milk and honey. It has a really nice lather, it almost turns my tub into a bubble bath." Two could play this game. "I don't suppose you like bubble baths, do you? Not very manly."

"I love bubble baths! They're the ultimate luxury. At home I take them with a glass of cognac and stay in until I prune up." He countered, laughing softly.

She tipped her head back in the hot water and wet her hair. She poured some shampoo on her hand and lathered it in, tilting herself just so. The light from the window on the stove would set her partially in profile, showing the curve of one breast, her shoulder and neck. She blushed furiously, but he wouldn't be able to tell in the red light of the fire even if he did sneak a peek.

"Baths are the ultimate sensual experience. I never thought we'd have anything in common, Draco. Especially not something as personal as bathing." She piled her hair on her head and lathered slowly. "You're not looking, are you?" She risked a quick peek over her shoulder to find him turning away.

"No." He coughed.

It was her turn to smirk. "Liar," she chuckled softly.

Tentatively he said, "You're not mad?"

"You're a Slytherin, Draco," she laughed quietly. "We're trapped in a one room cabin. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

"So I can look?" He asked timidly.

"No. I asked you to be a gentleman." She ducked under the water and rinsed her hair.

"You're asking too much," he said when she resurfaced.

"Asking you to be a gentleman? Why is that?" She soaped her arms, neck and chest, maintaining her careful profile. She took her time, as any dirty girl should.

"You're beautiful." His reply was soft and begrudging; shy, even.

"Liar." She laughed lightly, lifting one leg out of the water and running the length of it with her soapy sponge. "I'm a Mudblood, remember?"

"You're still a woman," he said, a little more confident this time.

She ran the sponge down her other leg with a smirk. "You're learning, Malfoy."

"Back to Malfoy, are we? I thought we were having a pleasant bath. How did that happen?"

"Maybe six years ago we could have been friends. Before you called me all those foul names and I punched you in the nose. Maybe. But that was a long time ago. Any chance we had at being friends died the day you called me a Mudblood."

She turned and looked directly at him, saying, "Now look at the wall. I mean it. It's time for me to get out and if I catch you looking, I'll hex you and this time it will hurt."

He turned away. "What if I want to be friends now?"

She stood and wrapped herself in a towel before dragging her pajamas behind the curtain. Drying herself, then dressing quickly she said, "I'd say too little, too late. We're already on opposite sides of the war."

He didn't reply, so she grabbed the afghan from the foot of her bed and spread it over him as an excuse to get a look at his involuntary reaction to her experiment. Yup. It was the potion. His manhood was in full salute. She had to fight to keep herself from gaping. How in the hell was all that supposed to fit inside a woman? "Good night, Malfoy."

"I earned a blanket?" His eyes were stormy, but his expression was unreadable.

"You were mostly good. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt." She checked the blood flow in his toes and fingers before settling the blanket over him.

She banked the fire and climbed into bed with a smile. There was no telling when the potion would wear off, but Merlin knew it couldn't be soon enough.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hi again! Here we are with another update. I promise I will update at least once a week, more if I get the chance. Alas, everything cannot be all naked guys tied to a bed. There's this little thing called a plot we have to hurry along. Introducing brief vignettes of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Ahhh, Lucius. We all love a bad boy.**

**Lots of dialogue in this chapter, but it really can't be helped. It does carry the story and the plot ahead, so bear with me. Lucius needs to be taught a few things about not being in charge, so even though he's here, his character will unfold gradually. My Lucius is dark.**

**As always, my lovelies, please review. :) Pretty please with Lucius on top.**

**-Elvee**

* * *

Snatch

Chapter Six

"_In a time of universal deceit – telling the truth is a revolutionary act."_

-George Orwell

In the morning, Hermione put three drops of Veritaserum in Malfoy's tea. Lucius Malfoy would be calling at two that afternoon and she needed all the ammunition she could get. She drank her own tea, then pulled an assortment of muggle electronics out of her beaded bag. She'd worked hard to charm them over the summer to work around magic, and while they'd been twitchy at Hogwarts, she was sure her own wards wouldn't faze the protections she'd put on them.

When Malfoy woke just a few minutes later, she brought the tea to his bedside. Offering him the cup with a soft, "Good morning," she watched as he eyed the cup suspiciously.

"What's in it today?" His voice was still coarse with sleep.

She didn't see any reason to lie, "Veritaserum. Drink it and I'll give you all the breakfast you can eat."

He stomach growled loudly. "Why'd you tell me?" They both knew the potion was colorless, odorless and tasteless.

She shrugged, "I don't see much reason to lie, really. I have questions I need answered. You need breakfast. The rules stand. You do something for me, I do something for you." She held out the cup with a wry smile, "That and I can't lie to save my life."

He didn't take it. "What kind of questions?"

"About what it was like to be a Death Eater, how they treated you and your family." She patiently answered.

"You could just ask." He sniped.

She shook her head and said, "No, actually, I can't. I think we established last night you're far too Slytherin for that. I need the truth, the whole truth; and you won't tell me anything that embarrasses you or your family."

His eyes narrowed to slits. "Why? What are you trying to do?" his stomach growled again. It sounded painful.

She thought for a moment. She needed a truth, or, at least a partial one. "End the war." She shoved the cup closer. "That's the short answer, anyway. Last chance. You want to eat this morning or not?"

His stomach gurgled. He took the cup, complaining, "You don't fight fair, Granger."

Inwardly, she breathed a sigh of relief. She was back to 'Granger'. Maybe the old Malfoy was back. She smirked and said, "Never said I did." She watched as he downed the tea in three large gulps. "Up to the table with you."

She fell into the common routine of petrifying, unshackling and moving him. This time she chained him at one end of the rectangular table. At the other end she set up an abundance of muggle electronics: laptop, headset, and microphone.

Watching her fiddle with them, he asked, "What the hell is all that, Granger?"

"Muggle electronics."She slid the microphone across the table, motioning to it. "Talk into this." When he didn't respond, she looked up. His eyes were flat and distant. She checked the charms on the laptop one last time before booting it up and starting her recording equipment. "Veritaserum questioning session number one. Subect Draco Lucius Malfoy. Questioner Hermione Jean Granger. Please state your name."

So it began. She asked him more in depth questions about all of the Death Eaters he'd named. She was searching for patterns in behavior, places they frequented and truths to uncover possible weaknesses. After fifteen minutes or so, she switched topics to his own life in the Death Eaters.

"Did you want to become a Death Eater?" She tucked a stray curl behind her ear. This question was said as passively as the rest, it was all being recorded for use later by the Order and the Ministry. It wouldn't do to let her personal feelings get in the way. She was going to stick to her prepared list of lines of questioning.

His eyes were vacant, his voice was a scary parody of calm. "At first. I'd been groomed for it my whole life. My father always made it sound so glorious. Then, over the summer, as my time to take the Mark got closer, he took me to the meetings. After that, I didn't want anything to do with it."

"What happened at the meetings?"It would be the first time she was aware of that anyone outside Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape knew about anything that went on behind closed doors with the Death Eaters.

"They captured and tortured muggles and mudbloods. Sometimes they fought over the right to rape the prettiest ones. It was more of a fight to see who got to go first, than anything. I saw the Dark Lord kill Professor Burbage and feed her to his snake, Nagini. I saw the other Death Eaters kill dozens more. They weren't quick deaths. Little babies got their heads bashed in while their parents watched. It was all I could do not to throw up."

She didn't expect any different, but having her theories proved correct wasn't comforting. Quite the opposite, it churned her stomach and with the nausea a feeling of revulsion clawed it's way out of her. Before she knew what she was asking, she blurted, "What color was their blood, Malfoy?"

"Red. Just like mine," he intoned.

She inhaled a sharp breath through her nose, trying to stay calm. He learned the hard way, but at least he _was_ learning. She glanced back down at her list. The real question was how much of a participant he'd been. "Did you ever join in to torture and rape?" His answer could condemn or free him when the Ministry pressed charges at the end of the war.

"Yes.' Her breath caught, but he continued evenly, as if he hadn't even heard her, "My father ordered me to rape a young muggle girl. I told him I didn't want to dirty myself, but really, I didn't want to hurt her. She was only twelve or thirteen. In the end, I wound up killing her instead of raping her. I thought a quick death would be better than what they'd do to her. "

There was still a scrap of humanity in him after all. Here was the proof. He may not have been a nice guy, but he was no monster. That couldn't have gone unnoticed by the other Death Eaters. "What happened when you defied them?"

"Father was furious. Aunt Bella called me weak. She cast the Cruciatus curse on me until I passed out."

How many times had this boy... No that was wrong, he wasn't a boy, he was the same age as she was, a young man. Every time she pictured a scared Malfoy, why did she always see him as a little firstie, soft, blonde and angelic? How many times had he been tortured? How did he hide all this knowledge at school? "Was that the only time one of the Death Eaters hurt you?"

"No, but they were careful not to leave any scars. My father insisted. It would have made it more difficult to contract for an arranged marriage."

Suddenly, the impossible happened. Arranged marriage? Torture without scars? Seeing death after death, some of them even in his own home! Hermione felt sorry for him, and in the moment she realized it, she also knew he'd never tolerate her pity. Was there no refuge for him? "How does your mother feel about you and your father being Death Eaters?"

"She was fine with it until the Dark Lord set up shop in our manor. I don't think she had any real idea of what my father was doing until then. To celebrate, he brought a naked muggle woman in. I was supposed to offer him pieces of her; literally cut her apart while she was still alive. I couldn't do it, I threw up all over her. I disappointed my father again, this time in front of the Dark Lord. As punishment, I was forced to watch while my mother played hostess for the night. They strapped her naked to a table and each of the Death Eaters in the inner circle got a go at her. They tortured and raped her for raising a weak son, but she never complained. She didn't dare, He would have killed us both." A single tear trickled down his passive face.

Gods, above! Horrified didn't begin to cover what she was feeling now. Pity wasn't enough. "What about your father? What did he do?"

"Took his turn." This time the dead look in his eyes actually seemed to reflect the true Draco Malfoy.

Hermione let her eyes slide shut against the horror that was Maloy's life. She exhaled deeply before asking quietly, "Would you trust me if I told you I could get you and your mother out of this alive?"

"No. You can't help me. No one can."

Thankfully the serum was starting to wear off now. Hermione didn't think she could take much more. "Merlin. Okay, that's enough for now. Would you like some breakfast?"

At his nod, she shut down the recording equipment and handed him the antidote to squash any lingering effects. She busied herself with feeding them, cooking eggs, toast, bacon and porridge. True to her word, she allowed Malfoy to stuff himself silly. She sipped her tea from the opposite end of the table, her stomach too sick to eat. Pensively, she watched him as the Veritaserum melted away and his face shuttered closed.

He ate silently for a few minutes, before growling, "Tell me that's the last time you need to do that."

"I hope so," she said softly.

After breakfast Draco washed dishes, shoveled the walk and brought in more firewood. In exchange she gave him another sock.

During Malfoy's chores, she thought long and hard about Lucius. He wasn't a bad guy caught in a bad situation; he was just a bad guy. She planned carefully for the conversation that was going to take place in a few short hours. Her strategy had been solidified.

He was too full for a cup of cocoa, but he accepted his earned place by the stove shivering after she'd given him his prize. It was becoming commonplace to see him strutting around naked. As much as she knew she needed to keep control of the situation, after everything he'd been through, she felt bad about degrading him.

"Malfoy, do you want to give a message to your mother?" She asked, seated behind him at the table.

He stiffened, but didn't turn around, "You'd do that, Granger?" His voice was low and filled with disbelief.

"Yes, but no funny stuff. Just don't say anything about where we are, nothing about me, not even my gender." At his curt nod, she said, "Finish warming up, we've got less than an hour."

An hour later, Malfoy had read from the morning's Daily Prophet and recorded a short message to his mother. Currently he was shackled back on the bed under his blanket, his matching green-socked feet poking out of the end.

Hermione's laptop beeped. She slapped the earphones on her head and threw a silencing charm at Malfoy and surrounded the table with a _muffliato_ so he couldn't overhear. He glared at her for the unprovoked spell. She had connected her laptop to the internet and picked up the phone call with the press of a key.

Hermione could hear Lucius Malfoy's angry hiss through her earphones, _"Where is my son?"_

Hermione typed, and the computer said each word out loud in a monotone automated voice, stringing the disjointed words together in sentences, "Hello, Lucius. Glad to see you can follow directions." The program was the closest thing Hermione could think of to cutting and pasting a ransom note together out of pieces of the paper.

On the other end of the phone, Lucius was clearly furious, his voice carried a very plain threat, _"You listen to me..."_

"Tut, tut, such manners, Lucius. What would your father say?" Hermione typed.

"_My father would flay you alive and hang you for the sport of his crows, just as I intend to!" _He spat through the phone line.

"Perhaps Draco could watch this time, instead of throwing up all over. The Dark Lord didn't like that at all. Shame about Cissy, but she was delicious." Typing those words made Hermione sick, but she had to keep Lucius guessing. She decided to use Draco's memories to plant a seed of doubt that this kidnapping was coming from within the Death Eaters themselves.

The implication wasn't lost on Lucius and his voice dropped to a deadly whisper_, "How dare you?"_

His tone of voice made her nervous, Lucius was an incredibly dangerous man. "Ah yes, straight to business then. We have the only thing you own that is absolutely irreplaceable: the very last pureblooded Malfoy. That puts you in a rather precarious position, doesn't it? If something were to happen to young Master Draco your name and your house would end with you. But that wouldn't be enough punishment for how you have failed the Dark Lord. No. Thought you were better than us? Would the Dark Lord still think so if your son were to marry a mudblood?"

"_You wouldn't!"_Hermione could picture him, his hair crackling in his fury, his gray eyes glittering like the blade of a knife.

"Got a pretty little willing chit right here. She seems quite taken with him, no doubt thanks to your own good genes. Nice birthing hips, too, if you know what I mean," Hermione knew she was playing a part, but it was still tough keeping her heart out of her throat. When he didn't reply anything more than a sucked intake of breath, she pushed on, "We're going to play a little game, Lucius. For each week we keep Draco healthy and unmarried, you owe us a favor. This week's favor is to kill Fenrir Grayback. He took my favorite muggle and shredded her up like yesterday's Prophet. It wasn't even his turn. You have one week. If at the end of one week, he still lives, I will pour a love potion down your son's throat and he'll beg me to muddy your blood."

His reticent silence was answer enough.

"Repeat it to me. What are you to do?"

"_Grayback. One week."_ His voice strengthened, _"How do we even know he's alive?"_

Hermione ignored him, she wasn't very confident many wizards could trace the phone call, but she didn't put it past Lucius to kidnap a mugggle for just for this purpose. "Give Cissy a quill and let her speak into this muggle abomination."

"_Draco?"_ It was a shaky woman's voice.

Hermione pressed play on Draco's message, his smooth even drawl went into the phone line, "The Daily Prophet headlines for May twenty-second are..."

Narcissa interrupted, _"Draco, why are you reading the paper? Tell me where you are."_

His recording continued, "Don't worry, mother. I'm safe. I'm being well treated. Please be careful. I love you." She flipped the recording off.

"_Draco? Merlin! Draco!"_ On the other end of the phone, Narcissa was bereft by the ending of her son's voice. It was so very hard for Hermione to listen to his mother, knowing she couldn't comfort her. Hermione hoped just as much as Lucius and Narcissa she wouldn't be marrying Malfoy next week.

Hermione continued typing, ignoring Narcissa's hysterics. The disjointed voice of her text-to-speech program plowed over her sobs, "Tell Lucius no proof will be needed. We have our sources. We will know if he hasn't completed this week's task and Draco will suffer for it. Lucius will not want to do it, you're going to have to convince him. Help us keep Draco safe." Then she gave the new phone number to call when the deed was done before disconnecting.

With a wave of her wand, the spells she set up at the beginning of the ransom call were dropped, one after the other. Malfoy was still glaring at her from his bed.

She saved the audio files, dated them, and packed the electronics away. Without looking at him she said quietly, "I delivered your message."

He nodded, and said curtly, "Thanks."

Hermione busied herself putting on the kettle. While her back was to him, he asked softly, "Is she okay?"

She turned back to face him, kettle filled to the brim with cold water. "My laptop doesn't let me see her without a special camera." Seeing his eyes drop, she hurriedly added, "But she sounded okay. Worried about you, but okay." She dropped her own eyes and quickly put the kettle on the hot stove. She pulled out two cups and a pile of biscuits.

She poured the tea in silence and took it over to the edge of his bed, setting the plate on his chest. They sat for a few long minutes, in silence. She caught him more than once sizing her up.

"What's your plan, Granger?" He asked finally, when she stood to refill his cup.

Having refreshed both cups, she sat back on the edge of the bed and stuffed another biscuit in his mouth after handing him his tea.

"You know I can't tell you." If he hated her now, just think how he'd react to her if he found out they might have to marry! He nodded, clearly expecting her answer. She sipped her tea and pinned him with a hard look, "Let's just say I hope for both our sakes I don't have to go through with it."

His quizzical look was quickly buried under an impassive mask.

After some deliberation she said, "Draco?" She waited for him to meet her eyes, then continued softly, "I can't tell you how, but I'm going to make your father pay for what he's done to you. To both of you."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Back again! Now back to the important stuff – naked men and bath tubs. :)**

**My lovelies I stand in awe of all the love I've been shown. As such, here's a bonus chapter. More reviews = more love = more writing. And we all like more writing, especially with a naughty Draco coming up just for you, ladies. :)**

**-Elvee**

* * *

Snatch

Chapter Seven

"_Life is not always like chess. Just because you have the king surrounded, don't think he is not capable of hurting you."_

-Ron Livingston

Hermione sat at the scrubbed wooden table for a long time that afternoon. She honestly hadn't counted on Malfoy being anything other than what he seemed to be: the son of a bigoted and violent man, every bit as committed to the same beliefs and methods as his father. When she was drawing up her plans it had been so simple. Draco Malfoy had been a known quantity.

Except now he wasn't.

For the past hour he'd been over on the bed sighing in an obvious attempt to get her attention without getting smacked with another silencing spell. Her eyes flicked to him. He was staring at her, his face passive. She ignored him. Again.

Her plan was perfectly reasonable, perfectly logical, and completely rational. And it was going to crumble. She just knew it. She also knew the weak point in this room wasn't shackled to the bed. Yes, the variables had changed, but that didn't make him any less of a loathsome little ferret. He'd just been downgraded from sadistic killer to bully. That was a hell of a miscalculation, and she was furious with herself for not seeing it sooner.

Just for something to do, she pulled the leather journal out of her bag and thumbed it open lazily. Lo and behold, Professor Snape had finally decided to grace her with a response:

_How is the dog?_

She was furious! He dared write her back now? Well that was a fine kettle of fish! She had to figure out a way to let him know what was going on with Lucius and Narcissa. There was no telling who would find the journal on his end. He wasn't nearly as isolated as she was. She'd have to try code and pray he'd understand.

_He lived. How is his master?_

_Sadly, the golden hound you had your eye on has started to pick fights with a much larger, much more feral dog. The noise from their fights might reach a point where it bothers the neighbors this week. So there is that to look forward to. The pup I brought in last week is out of danger, but I'm still concerned for the bitch. _

That was as much as he'd get from her now. She started to close the journal, but stopped short when she saw a reply scribbling back on the page.

_His master is passing fair and sends his greetings. As to the golden hound, what will be, will be. He is uncommon clever, as you know, and it would be sad to lose him, but as you are so fond of reminding me, there are other dogs. I will ask around to my friends to see if we can come up with any ideas to improve the bitch's condition._

Good enough. They were going to try to get Narcissa out of Malfoy Manor. And, she blushed, the love potion had no effect on him. She'd done what she could for the moment. With a satisfied smirk she stuffed the journal back in her beaded bag.

"What's the smirk for, Granger?" She had almost forgotten about Malfoy over in the corner. With nothing else to do, Granger watching had become his new hobby.

"I just realized it's time to take a blood and hair sample from you," she said with an evil grin.

"No way, Granger! Are you cracked?" Blood and hair were powerful magical components. Hair, for example, was used in polyjuice potion whereas blood could be used for all manner of powerful healing, defensive warding and dark spells of terrible power. Some of her own blood was in the Magicaine balm she'd made to treat his Mark.

"I wouldn't ask for it if I didn't need it, Malfoy." She planted her hands on her hips looming over him, impatience making her eyes roll.

"You can't have my blood!" He yelled.

"Think about it logically, ferret. I could have done anything I wanted to with you by now."

He smirked, "True. Not even my gorgeous naked body could corrupt St. Granger." He began to wiggle on the bed, making the blanket ride lower and lower.

She swallowed unconsciously, then snapped. "Stop that!" She reached over and pulled a few hairs out of his head.

"Hey! No fair! You weren't supposed to take that without giving me an incentive." He whined.

She rolled her eyes, "Fine, what do you want in exchange for," she counted the hairs, "three hairs?"

He pretended to think for a minute, then roved his eyes slowly up and down her form. "A kiss."

"What?!" She shrieked.

"Each." He smirked.

"Malfoy!" She raised her wand, "Stup-"

"Wait!"Yelling, he flinched. Her eyes narrowed, but she held the spell. When it failed to hit, he opened one eye and tried again, "How about a bath?"

"Fine. After dinner." She uncorked a vial and held it to his shackled forearm, siphoning a small amount of blood from his vein. When she was done, she quickly cleaned and healed her incision.

"Now about the blood..." He began with a smirk.

Without warning, she bent over and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. It was awkward. After all, he was talking and she just swooped in and covered his mouth chastely with her lips. But she did give him firm contact long enough to startle him into silence. She pulled away quickly with a smug look on her face.

"St. Granger, my arse," she laughed. The shock on his face was enough to keep her warm while she went out to attune the wards.

Her general protection and anti-apparition wards were a tangled knot of complex magics, but just in case Malfoy got loose and stole her wand, she had to be sure he wouldn't be able to get off the tiny island. This was what she was using the blood and hair for.

As she went to each of the cardinal directions on the island to cast the incantations, her mind kept drifting back to his lips. They were softer than she ever thought possible. If he ever stopped talking long enough, he'd probably be a pretty good kisser. Not that she had much to compare it to, of course. Just Viktor. His lips had been chapped and rough. Come to think of it, so were his kisses.

_St. Granger_, she thought acidly. Yes, people probably did think that way about her. Little did they know, she wasn't a prude at all, she was just very choosy who she chose to put her lips on. She wanted to really care about someone before diving headfirst into embracing. Well, until now, that was.

Horror struck her. She'd jut kissed the ferret.

She consoled herself knowing it was to beat him at his own bloody game, to take back control. In the end though, it didn't really matter _why_ she had just kissed him, because the fact remained she had done it. For the second time that week she tried to spit the taste of Malfoy out of her mouth. This time it just took her thirty minutes to remember to do it.

Wiping her mouth against her sleeve, she cast the last incantation, expecting to come back inside only to find Malfoy had ripped apart the mattress with his teeth or something equally juvenile. Surprisingly, everything was quiet, including Malfoy.

Malfoy was quiet, yes, but he wasn't tired of Granger watching. Something was different now, though. His eyes held something undefinable as he watched her, something darker. She ignored him until she was forced to feed him dinner.

As she spooned soup into his mouth, he studied her silently, as if he was trying to figure something out. Hermione, however was all business. Fill spoon, put in his mouth, pull out, repeat. She held her concentration in that tight little circle, careful not to think about the way his tongue greeted every bite she offered, careful not to watch his pink lips curve around the spoon and especially not to make eye contact with those questioning gray eyes. When he was done, she briskly wiped his mouth with a napkin and banished all the dishes to the sink.

"Dobby!" She called and with a crack, the elf appeared, doffing a tasseled lampshade instead of a hat.

"Yes, Mistress?" He bowed low, the fringe and tassels of his lampshade dragging the ground.

"You remember Mr. Malfoy?" At the elf's frightened nod, she continued kindly, "Mr. Malfoy is no longer your master, Dobby. You are to ignore anything he says and follow my orders. Please bathe Mr. Malfoy without unbinding him. Change his linens then secure him back to the bed. Please call me when you're done, and I'll give him his potion."

With each word, Dobby stood straighter, empowered by her instructions. With a snap of his fingers, the tub moved to the center of the room and filled with steaming water. With another snap, Draco was unceremoniously vanished from the top of the bed, only to reappear a few inches over the water. He dropped in with the splash of a killer whale. In a few moments, Dobby had one foot on his shoulder, the other on the edge of the tub, scrubbing him roughly with a long handled wooden brush singing pirate songs in a rowdy, cheerful squeak. Draco cursed loudly.

Once Malfoy's bed was changed, the small inland sea in front of the stove vanished and the tub scrubbed to gleaming, Dobby was dismissed. Hermione checked Malfoy's shackles and tucked the blanket around him.

"Granger?" He said softly as she was covering his feet. "That letter you had the other day, was that for Viktor Krum?"

"Maybe. Why?" Her hands slowed their fussing and she turned to look at him.

"He took the Dark Mark two months before I did." He looked away, down at a very interesting spot in front of the stove. "I just thought you ought to know." He mumbled.

She stiffened and sucked in a breath. The love letter was a fake, but she still thought of Viktor as her friend. They still sent letters back and forth, right up until she came to the cabin with Malfoy. Her eyes darted all over the room as she tried to make sense of Viktor being a Death Eater. After a long moment, she said softly, "Thank you."

He met her eyes then and gave her a slow nod.

Numbly, she changed for bed and brushed her teeth. She fell into bed, letting the tears track quietly over her cheeks onto the pillow. Viktor was a friend. He wasn't like them. There had to be a reason. An hour after she'd turned out the lantern she called softly into the dark, "Malfoy?"

His whisper came through the velvety blackness between them, "Yeah?" It was gentle and sleepy.

"Did he volunteer?" She whispered, holding out hope against hope.

Across the room Malfoy blew out a long breath, "Yeah. Yeah, he did."

Something cold twisted in her chest. The only boy she'd ever kissed was a Death Eater. Correction: the only two boys she'd ever kissed. She'd lost so much to this damn war already: her parents, her friends in the Order and now her childhood sweetheart. Merlin, the hole was just too big for tears to fill it, but they kept running down her face anyway.

"Why did you tell me?" she said into the darkness.

"You deserved to know."

After a long time when sleep refused to come, she slid out of bed and summoned two glasses from the kitchen. With a sniffle, she reached into her beaded bag and poured two stiff shots of fire whiskey. She padded over to Malfoy's bed and pressed a glass in his hand. They drank slowly in the faint glow from the stove. When her tears had dried, she took his glass and banished them both to the sink.

She kissed him on the forehead, smelling the whiskey on his breath, and whispered in his ear, "Thank you."

In the morning, Hermione went through the motions, feeding Malfoy breakfast and supervising him through his chores. She gave him a fresh pair of boxer shorts, partially for the work he'd done, but also for respecting her privacy and not asking any more questions.

The morning chores complete, Hermione would usually read or knit or write in her journal. This morning she sat over her cuppa staring unseeing out the window over Malfoy's bed. The tears hadn't filled the hole from last night. Neither had the fire whiskey.

Finally, Malfoy's first complaint of the day poked into the silent gloom, "Granger, I'm bored. Don't you have a pack of cards or a chess set or something?"

"Not now, Malfoy." She was so tired. It was like swimming against the current. It never ended. It had been years of fighting this maniac and all Hermione seemed to do was lose more and more of those she loved.

"Com'on Granger. My brain is rotting to mush over here," he whined. "One game."

"Fine, one game. Then will you leave me alone?" She huffed.

"Wizard's honor." He raised his right hand as if he were holding a wand.

She rolled her eyes and pulled a travel chess set out of her bag, setting it on the table. She went through the motions of getting Malfoy out of bed and shackled to the chair across from her. His left hand was given a longer shackle so he could reach the board. She levitated the blanket over his shoulders and they began to play.

"Jeez Granger! Who in Merlin's name taught you how to play wizard's chess? A book?" Malfoy asked in disbelief from behind a towering pile of white pieces.

Her temper was flaring and her face was flushed with the embarrassment of not being able to save that last piece. "No. For your information, Ron taught me," She snipped, fingering her mealsey two black conquests.

Malfoy laughed and rolled his eyes, "Figures." He easily slid a knight into a square threatening two of her white pieces. She picked up a piece to move when suddenly Malfoy coughed. She made to put the piece down. He coughed again. She picked it back up.

"Need water, Malfoy?" She said, flustered at the interruption.

He feigned innocence. "No."

She tried to put the piece down on another square. He coughed. She gave him a glare and put the piece back to it's original position. She picked up another and tried another move. He coughed. "Malfoy!"

"Granger, look at it logically. If you move your knight here, my queen will clobber him. If you move your bishop there, you put yourself in check. You can't even do that! It's an illegal move!" After watching her mounting frustration for a moment, he turned the board around so she was playing his black pieces and he was playing her white pieces. "Now, pay attention."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: More of that pesky thing called a plot here. More Dramione interaction next chapter, I promise. This chapter is dedicated to those that reviewed the last chapter: Jen0318, Krystal Alspaugh, Twilighternproud, manitou2422 (I made it out of Missouri ahead of the ice storm! Yay!), Sampdoria, Tanya, GingerBreadSed, Queen, Akatsuki'sBloodyNekoNinja, Whenarewe. Thank you, thank you, thank you! You guys are awesome!**

**Your love and support through your reviews are so very welcome! If you enjoy what you read, please consider leaving one. It helps feed the artist's muse. (That's where the plot bunnies grow.) My regular reviewers can tell you I will send a reply to each and every (non-guest) one :) I look forward to hearing from you.**

**-Elvee (p.s. If you'd have a question on OOC, please see the notes at the end of this chapter first, if not, feel free to skip it and keep enjoying the story!)**

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Snatch

Chapter Eight

"We sleep safe in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm."

-George Orwell

That night after dinner Hermione scrawled a list and a letter to Harry. She folded the parchment and called for Dobby. He arrived with a crack. She handed him the message and a list, with a low murmur, "Dobby, you are about to be very busy. Deliver this letter to Harry and wait for a reply. Go to Gringotts and pick up these forms."

Dobby bowed, "Yes, mistress. Dobby will be happy to help the friend of Harry Potter." He hesitated at the deepest part of his bow before giving Hermione a sly look, "Will young Mr. Draco be needing a bath this evening?"

Hermione had put Malfoy to work stirring cookie dough. He'd grumbled about doing house elf work, but she'd only glared at him. He was either grumbling about chores or whining about being bored and it was truly plucking away at her last nerve.

Malfoy added the chocolate chips and stirred. He was chained to a chair at the ankles, but his wrists were bound by a chain that ran behind his back, threaded through a loop on the back of a special belt. It was just long enough to allow him to use one hand at a time. The unused arm would be pulled taut to his side. Even so, she watched him like a dementor at a kid's birthday party.

She turned from Dobby and peeking over Malfoy's shoulder into the bowl of cookie dough, asked Malfoy, "How 'bout it, Malfoy? Care for another bath from Dobby tonight?"

He rolled his eyes, and paused in his stirring. "As if, Granger."

Hermione shrugged, then shot a secret smile at Dobby, "I don't think tonight, Dobby. Now hurry back. We have much to do."

Once Dobby disappeared with a crack, she dug around in her beaded bag. After a few seconds of coming up empty, she huffed, "Oh, for Merlin's sake! _Accio_ Draco Malfoy's Gringotts key." A small gold key on a short chain shot out of the bag into the palm of her hand.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, as he saw her pocket his key. "I knew you were just another gold digger, Granger," he said acidly.

She ignored his comment, looking into the bowl. "That's good enough. Stir them too much and they'll get tough."

He ignored her change of subject, sneering, "The goblins won't let you into my vault."

She plucked a book off her shelf, saying cryptically, "When the time comes, Malfoy, they won't have to." She levitated the book to the mattress, then went through the routine of petrifying and shackling him to the bed. This time, she left the restraint belt on. She shackled his left hand to the iron rail, then shortened the opposite chain until he could only reach his chest.

She pulled the book from under him, thumbed through it to the first chapter and propped it open in his free hand. "Here, read this and keep quiet. You're giving me a headache."

He frowned at the open page, "_The Picture of Dorian Gray_? Don't tell me. It's some kind of muggle trash."

"Read it. Or don't. Just stay quiet." She got up and began spooning dough onto cookie sheets.

"Well, what's it about?" He was starved for entertainment, but the thought of reading muggle literature obviously repulsed him.

"It's a story about a man who has an enchanted portrait of himself." She slid the first tray of cookies into the oven. "It's about the choices he makes in his life when he thinks there are no repercussions. It reminds me of you." She began dropping more dough onto the next sheet.

"Why would I want to read that prattle?" Malfoy sneered.

She rubbed her temples and sighed, "Like I said, read it or..." Hermione stopped talking abruptly. The alarm wards on the rocky beach had just been triggered. "Shut up," she hissed, dropping the spoon and whipping out her wand.

Malfoy eyed the door nervously, "What? What is it?"

"Someone's here." Hermione cast a disillusionment charm over herself. "Stay quiet and be still."

"Granger! You can't leave me here!" He wailed.

"Be quiet!" She hissed, sliding underneath his bed, her wand pointed at the door.

The heavy step of a boot was heard outside the door. Then another.

Hermione wasn't the fastest dueler. Surprise would be essential. Her breath came in short pants as she heard whoever was outside the door try the knob. From under the bed she saw the edge of a long black cloak and two very large boots step inside.

The boots turned to the bed Malfoy was shackled to. "Well..." said a man's voice.

Hermione sprung into action. She cast a stupefy charm, crumpling the intruder to the ground. She followed it quickly with a disarming charm and quickly tied him up with another flick of her wand. Pocketing his confiscated wand in her arm sheath, she scrambled out from underneath the bed.

"It's a Death Eater!" Malfoy hissed. "I knew they'd find us, you stupid bint!"

Sure enough, the intruder was wearing a long black velvet cloak and a Death Eater mask. Her breath caught in her throat. She turned out his pockets, levitated him to a chair and shackled him down. Unbelievably, the wards were now quiet. He was alone.

She pulled his lolling head back with her free hand, keeping her wand trained on his throat. She took a peek under the mask and gasped, letting it fall back into place. Her prisoner groaned.

"Quick, Granger, he's coming to!" Malfoy said, his eyes wide.

Casting a silencing charm on the Death Eater, she took a step back and rummaged in her beaded bag.

"You don't turn your back on a Death Eater! Granger!" Malfoy yelled, struggling against his bonds.

Finding the vial she needed, she whirled on Malfoy and cast a stunning spell. He fell limp against the mattress. She popped the cork on the sleeping draught and forced Malfoy to swallow it with a charm. The stunning spell could react badly with the sleeping potion. She cast an _ennervate_ and pulled the blanket up to Malfoy's chest. His panic was sinking under the effect of the potion. "It's alright, Malfoy."

"Merlin!" He gasped, struggling for a hold on consciousness, "You're one of them!"

"Don't be an idiot! Go to sleep," She snapped. Try as he might, the potion dragged his eyes shut and evened out his ragged breathing.

She spun on her new prisoner, "Of all the stupid, dangerous, hare brained..." She ripped the mask off his head, revealing an angry Professor Snape. He glared at her.

"Well! Serves you right! You wouldn't be tied up if I knew you were coming!" With a few flicks of her wand, the silencing charm fell, the shackles disappeared and the ropes dropped to the floor.

"My wand?" sneering, he eyed the cookie mess on the table.

"Oh! Yes! Sorry, sir." She blushed, handing it over.

He was tucking his handful of belongings back into his pockets. "You will find, Miss Granger, that I _did_ warn you I was coming. Did you not check your journal?"

Hermione took stock of the mess of cookie dough, quills, parchment and other detrius that littered the table and blushed an even deeper shade of red.

"Or were you," he sneered, looking at the mess, "too busy playing house?"

She knew better than to reply. After all, she'd just disarmed him, tunred out his pockets and trussed him up like a Sunday turkey. "Tea?" She asked as a peace offering. Oh, Merlin! The cookies! She debated whether to take them out of the oven, or let them burn. She moved to the kitchen, preparing tea, and removing the cookie tray from the oven as unobtrusively as possible.

"I specifically asked Professor Dumbledore not to tell you where we were." She challenged, all while her back was turned to him busy with the tea things. "Why are you here, sir?"

"Greyback is dead." He said with no preamble. "How is our young guest?"

"Well enough." Absently she fingered the new scar on her temple. The scar that her 'guest' had given her in the first day.

Professor Snape's eyes missed nothing. He raised his eyebrow. "I assume this is why Mr. Malfoy has no clothes?"

"Humiliation is a great motivator for the prideful." She cleared room on the table and set the tea tray down, complete with warm cookies. She served the tea.

"Indeed." He gave a small smirk.

After a moment, Hermione spoke,"I have a plan to retrieve Narcissa Malfoy from Malfoy Manor." She dipped the edge of a cookie into her tea. "From interrogating Malfoy, I understand she's a victim in all this."

He sighed, "We need to think of the bigger picture. Narcissa Malfoy is not our primary concern. It would raise too much suspicion."

"Which is just what we want." It was Hermione's turn to smirk. "If the He Who Must Not Be Named thinks Lucius is sending his family away into hiding, he will become a target. It will be a nice way to dispose of him when we're through with him."

"You just got him under your thumb, and now you want to get rid of him?" Snape said in disbelief.

"Of course not!" She retorted. "It will take several weeks to prepare. By that time, Lucius most likely will have outlived his usefulness. What we need to do now is agree on a list of targets. Once they are eliminated, we should let the Death Eaters take out their own trash. Saving Narcissa Malfoy will just be a perk."

"We can consider it." Professor Snape took a third cookie.

"First, though, I would appreciate your help, Professor." She pulled out her Death Eater organizational chart and handed it to him. "I need to fill in the holes in this chart so we can choose our targets."

Snape took the offered quill and began filling in the parchment. He also made a list of sympathizers in a separate list in the margin. When he was done, he gestured to the Gurg, or chief, of the giants. "I would suggest we start here."

"Hagrid and Professor Maxime should do that. They can poison a piece of livestock one of the other giants brings as a morning offering." The Gurg wasn't what was on her mind. That was too easy. She bit her lip. He knew. He had to know, and she wasn't making her list of targets before she did. "Professor," she started softly, "Who killed my parents?"

He caught and held her eye for a long moment, obviously debating whether or not to tell her. "They won't be one of our targets. This is not about you, Miss Granger."

She bristled, "And if we could take out our targets and still have my revenge? Would you still deny me?"

His eyebrow went back up, "And how would you propose to do that?"

She dug her laptop and headphones out of her beaded bag. "Listen to this first. It should make what I'm about to propose very clear." She booted the laptop and with great trepidation on Professor Snape's behalf, placed the headphones on his head. She played the ransom phone call for him. He listened intently, his dark eyes glittering.

When it was over, he snatched the headphones off his head and dropped them on the table, like they were a thing alive. "Clever. You'll need a regular stream of information to keep up the pretense that you're a Death Eater. If you skew that information so it seems like it is coming from a particular Death Eater, it could have some... interesting consequences. Lucius is no fool. He could narrow it down."

She smiled. It was refreshing to talk with someone who was as quick on his mental toes as she was. "Exactly. It would also have the added bonus of keeping relations between the Inner Circle itself unstable. It would, of course, require us to keep in regular contact."

"That kind of information cannot go through the journal. It would be too risky. We'd have to meet here." Professor Snape's flicked a glance at Malfoy. The younger man was snoring softly through his mouth. The Potions master frowned, "What about Mr. Malfoy?"

Hermione shook her head, "Obviously, I don't trust him. He might not believe in what the Death Eaters are doing, but he wouldn't hesitate to spill his guts if he thought it would save himself or his mother. He can't find out who you are. Stunning him this much isn't good for him. I try to petrify him if I have to do anything."

He eyed the scar at her temple and lowered his voice to stress the import of his words, "Make no mistake, Miss Granger. Draco is dangerous. If you need to stun him, do it. I assure you you're much gentler than either the Dark Lord or his father." He fingered the tray of fresh sweets with a raised eyebrow. "You even bake him cookies."

She blushed, technically the cookies were for the both of them. Even so, it seemed like Professor Snape had the wrong measure of Malfoy. "He's a misguided idiot, not a murderer."

Professor Snape leaned across the table and hissed, "Do not think that if Draco saw some use in your death, he wouldn't do it. He would. The only thing he lacks right now is the motivation. He's already made two attempts on Dumbledore's life."

"He was coerced!" She objected.

"He had motivation," Professor Snape countered smoothly.

They sat in silence as she let that sink in. After a long minute, she nodded and he seemed satisfied. "Professor, I still want to know who killed my parents."

He sighed and gave her a measuring look, as if he was asking himself if she'd ever be satisfied with anything but the truth. Apparently he made a decision, as he said, "Alexander Dolohov and Electo Carrow."

Her fingers went automatically to the scar on her chest, the scar Dolohov had given her in the Ministry last year. Her eyes unfocused, remembering. After an uncomfortable moment, Professor Snape cleared his throat. She blinked back into the present and gave him a curt nod. "Thank you."

He returned her nod and she cleared her own throat, pressing on ahead with the business at hand, "It's time to bring Professor Lupin in out of the field to work with Harry. If Hagrid and Madame Maxime can take out the Gurg, then who is our next target?" She slid the now full organizational chart in front of her. "What about Rabastan LaStrange? What does he do?"

For over an hour, they debated their next target, eventually deciding on Frederick Nott. He was one of the largest financial backers to the Death Eaters, second only to the Malfoys. After that they listed two spies in the Ministry and finally, Bellatrix LaStrange. Hermione didn't have any doubts if Lucius could kill Greyback, he'd be able to take out Nott and the Ministry spies. It was Bellatrix that worried her.

From what Harry told her, Bellatrix was obviously insane, extremely powerful and sat at the right hand of Voldemort. It was too much to hope that he hadn't tutored her himself. She chewed her lip until Professor Snape interrupted her.

"Either way, it will be a coup. If Lucius kills Bellatrix, I will make sure the inner circle knows about it. A single accusation in the right ear will be more than enough. The Dark Lord will kill him out of hand for taking away his most loyal follower. If Bellatrix kills Lucius, no one will dispute he was jealous of her position inside the inner circle. Our treachery will be complete. We will have thrown the Inner Circle into chaos, cut off Ministry information, put a stranglehold on their finances and alienated the werewolves and giants."

"And rescued Narcissa." She maintained.

"If we can." He said warily.

A wide smile broke across her face, "I can take her today, I just don't want to. The timing isn't right. It would threaten Lucius' standing."

"How do you propose to get past the wards, get into a house filled with dozens of Death Eaters and past the Dark Lord and get out alive?" He didn't say it, but the 'silly girl' was implied in his tone.

"That's for me to know." She smiled knowingly. "It will work, Professor, I'm sure of it."

"Very well." Professor Snape stood. "I should be going."

She stood to show him to the door. "I'm sorry about the..." He gave a a withering look. She cleared her throat, "I'll reset the wards so I'll know it's you next time."

He nodded, "Watch the journal. When Nott is killed, I will return." With a swirl of his black cloak he was gone into the night.

Dobby popped in and laid the documents on the table, bowing. She asked him finish up baking the cookies before dismissing him. She cleaned up the table, made sure the laptop was hooked up to the internet, waiting for Lucius's call. Now that Greyback was dead, he could ring any time.

She looked over at Malfoy. He was still snoring, his hair falling softly over his eyes. She didn't think Professor Snape had judged him fairly, but his warning was far too stern to disregard. She frowned as she filled the tub. As long as Malfoy was passed out from the sleeping potion, she may as well have a bath. Would he really kill her? He may not be a Griffindor, but he was no murderer.

She lowered herself into the steaming water, thinking. If Malfoy truly wanted her dead, why would he tell her about Viktor? Then again, he _had_ clocked her over the head with the shackle. Now that she had an idea of his upbringing, it was easy to see why he'd taunted her all her life. If he was truly a carbon copy of his father, his behavior to her in school would never had stopped with just a few harsh words and the occasional hex. But somehow, in comparison to what he'd been through, his actions told of a shred of decency his father hadn't managed to snuff out.

Malfoy was an enigma, an annoying, pratty enigma.

The biggest problem was this: if she kept him chained up to the bed all the time eventually his health would suffer, but unchaining him required trust that he wasn't going to murder her with a cookie spatula. The problem then became which she should trust, her own instincts or Professor Snape's? Snape may have known him longer, but in Malfoy's world he was an authority figure. Muggle psychology would dictate he shouldn't show weakness in front of anyone he considered a threat.

In short, in Malfoy's eyes was she a threat? Did he have motivation?

With these thoughts swirling around in her head, she finished washing, put on her pajamas and tumbled into bed.

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**A/N: SKIP ME UNLESS YOU HAVE QUESTIONS ABOUT CHARACTERIZATION.**

**The in-character/out-of-character debate: Firstly, thank you for reading. Secondly, please make careful note of exactly ****_when_**** I plucked my characters out of canon. It is sixth year. So, Hermione is feeling rather lonely and under appreciated. Malfoy is terrified at what he has to do and what he's seen at home. At this point they are the sum of what JK Rowling has allowed them for experience. That is what makes up their personalities. Once I get a hold of them, the experiences they have will change from canon. This ****_will_**** affect them. They will be different people than when they are in JKR's story. It's normal. It's natural. It's sound psychology.**

**Also, POV (point of view) plays a very strong role in how a character is perceived. We all think things we never act on. Having Hermione be our main character allows us all kinds of insight into the character's head that we would not otherwise have. In the original series, Harry may have speculated, but let's be honest, he truly couldn't say anything for sure on either Hermione or Malfoy.**

**At any rate, if you think Hermione is too muggle by doing some things by hand, I have sound reasoning for that: namely she was raised as a muggle, she'd under incredible amounts of pressure and her parents have died. It's called reversion. She's falling back on the known and comforting in times of stress. Psychology again. It was also done with the purpose of drawing a very clear delineation between her character and Malfoy's. Malfoy is all magic, all the time. In this case, the contrast is an open metaphor for the contrast between the two major characters in this story.**

**At any rate, I'm sorry if you were looking for something different or better and feel like you've wasted your time here. I write in the hopes that you would enjoy the story. For that matter, so did the writers of the other 650,000 Harry Potter stories on this site. If you don't like mine, please feel free to explore the other works. I'm sure you'll find something to your liking. If you want to discuss OOC further, please feel free to PM me. In deference to my other readers, this will be the only time I address it here. **

**Thanks, Elvee**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Do you think Draco's inability to keep his clothes on has anything to do with his inability to keep his mouth shut? Nah. Unpossible. :P**

**Your reviews are like little hugs and I love each and every one of them. If you like what you read, please feed the plot bunny and send a review. :)**

**Happy Turkey Day!**

**-Elvee**

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Snatch

Chapter Nine

"People who think they know everything are a great annoyance to those of us who do."

-Isaac Asimov

Hermione sat bolt upright, covered in sweat, her heart in her throat. Over and over in her dreams, Dolohov shot her with that purple squirming light; she collapsed at the Ministry, at the Burrow, in front of her parents, in her own bed at Hogwarts. Over and over she died and Dolohov cackled, the sound of it echoing through her nightmare.

It wasn't a new dream, but each time she had it terror gripped her and wouldn't let go. Each time she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep without seeing his crooked yellow teeth and smelling his putrid breath on her face. She untangled her legs from the blankets with a tired sigh.

She slipped into her bathrobe and padded over to the kitchenette, putting the kettle on. Malfoy was still sleeping off the potion, so she couldn't have been asleep long, an hour, maybe two. It was going to be a long night.

Her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, she stood by the toasty stove until the kettle was just about to boil. She caught it before the whistle screamed. There was no need for both of them to be up. Silently, she poured out her tea, warming her hands on the mug. Walking past the table her eyes landed on Harry's letter. She clutched at it, thinking a few kind words from her oldest friend could help comfort her and clear her head.

She sank into the chair, alternately blowing across and sipping from her cup. With a small smile, she broke the seal on the letter. She read in the dim red light of the stove, her mouth falling open and her eyes increasing in speed the lower on the page she went.

She'd known he and Ron would be angry, but she thought for sure Harry would understand. After all, wasn't he doing his own set of tasks for Dumbledore? Apparently Harry couldn't be counted on either. According to his letter she had 'betrayed them', 'abandoned them' and were making them 'sick with worry'. He proceeded to give her the worst tongue lashing of their whole friendship in five paragraphs or less.

A tear slid down her cheek, and the deep breath she took to steady herself was shaky and thin. The letter fluttered to the floor from her numb fingers. Clutching the tea cup in one hand, she covered her eyes with the other and wept softly. How dare he accuse her of betraying them? She'd expected it from Ron, certainly, but counted on Harry to calm him down and smooth things over. She'd thought she would always have his loyalty.

Obviously, she was wrong.

Here she was, stuck in the back of beyond in the most dangerous game of cat and mouse of her young life trying to save Harry Potter's bloody behind and he had the nerve to tell her off. She couldn't separate her feelings enough to tell if she was more sad, lonely, bitter, betrayed or indignant. It didn't matter, the stifled sobs came regardless.

"Viktor dump you then?"Just what she needed. Malfoy was awake. His voice was gravely with sleep.

She gave a bitter laugh, swiped hastily at her tears and took a long breath. It may not have been Viktor, but a friend had certainly told her off. "Something like that." The last thing she wanted was for him to watch her fall apart. Without turning around she said, "You should go back to sleep. It's late."

"Is there more tea?" She could hear him shifting around, probably trying to sit up. Wordlessly she poured him a cuppa and brought it to him. His eyes glowed in the firelight as he searched for something in her face. He accepted his cup and asked,"Who was he, Granger?"

"Who was who?" It was an honest question. There had been such a swirl of trauma to her mind in the last hour, she'd completely forgotten the last thing he'd seen.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "The Death Eater, Granger." He waited a moment before asking, "Was it Krum?" He sipped his tea.

She crossed back to the chair next to the fire, turning her back to him. "No. He doesn't know..." She started to explain herself, but she was tired and he really didn't rate an explanation, did he? "No."

"What did he want?" More questions. Why couldn't he just leave it alone.

She thought for a long time. She'd spent hours last night wondering if she could trust him. It was time to make up her mind. He _would_ give away any information he had if he saw an advantage. No, then, she couldn't trust him. She sighed heavily before answering him quietly. "I'd rather not say."

"You're quite the Death Eater party favor. Do Scarhead and Weasel-bee know?" His voice came from the darkness, snide and bitter.

She spun in her chair, leveling her wand at him, her mouth a grim line. "You're sick, Malfoy! Shut it, or I'll shut it for you."

A long silence settled between them, Hermione staring at him down her wand, Malfoy glaring at her with eyes glowing from the fire light. Eventually her hackles went down and she turned back to the fire, staring into her empty tea cup. Some time later she found him still in the same position, still glaring suspiciously at her. She snatched the cup from his hand and snapped, "For your information, I wasn't expecting him."

As she turned to levitate the cup to the sink, he shot back, "Obviously you _were_ expecting him or we'd be on the run by now."

"Obviously I wasn't. I stunned and shackled him." She crossed her arms high on her chest, her spine stiff.

"Who knows? Maybe he's into that kinky stuff." She goggled at him, but his tongue was quick and the next words were meant to maim, "Tell me, does he get off because you're a Mudblood, or because you're Potter and Weasley's princess?"

With a boldness that came from anger, she dragged her fingernails lightly down his chest and fingered the waistband of his boxers suggestively. "You sound jealous, Malfoy. Craving a little Mudblood of your own? Maybe if your father plays his cards right you'll get your wish." He gasped and became instantly erect.

She gave a mirthless laugh. "Don't knock it 'til you try it." She took a step back from his bed.

"What? Not gonna give me a go, Granger? I'm in the club, too." He said acidly, as he twisted his arm to show his Dark Mark.

Hands on her hips, she retorted, "I don't fuck small mammals."

"So that's why the Weasel threw you over for Brown. Can't say I blame him. Who'd want you when you could have Brown? She might be a revolving door, but at least she's fucking her own side."

"I've got a joke for you, Malfoy. A Wizard went to a Healer and told him about the great trip he'd just returned from. He drank a hundred different fire whiskeys and had a hundred different whores. The Healer said it sounded like a great trip and asked what the problem was. The Wizard explained that after the hundredth whore his penis turned black. The Wizard had to search high and low for healers that spoke English, but each one he found said his condition was incurable and his penis would have to be amputated. 'So you see,' said the Wizard, 'That's why I'm here.' The Healer examined him and told him not to worry. The Wizard was so relieved he could have kissed the old Healer. 'It's really no problem,' the Healer said, 'Give it a week and it will fall off all by itself.'"

With a sweep of her wand, the blanket flew back. With another, his boxers vanished. With a muttered _caulis lividus _his erection turned a pestilent black and blue. Malfoy screamed then gaped at her in horror.

"WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE?!" Malfoy shrieked. She gave him a saucy wink. "GRANGER! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME LIKE..."

With a flick of her wand she silenced him and poured another cup of tea. It was only a harmless color changing spell, but he didn't need to know that.

Sometimes, it was good to be a witch.

Hours later found Hermione surfing real estate websites in France. She scribbled down some notes. She'd have to start thinking about her own future after the war. She'd never considered moving to France, but she'd always enjoyed it when she vacationed there with her parents. Totaling the figures on her parchment, she pulled out the withdrawal slip from Gringotts.

She entered the mind boggling figure, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She glanced at Malfoy. As usual, his eyes were boring into her. Maybe she should remove the charm first. Hermione's mother always said you caught more flies with honey than with vinegar. She thought about it. She really did. Nope. She just couldn't bring herself to do it. He deserved to sweat a few bezoars after the things he'd said this morning. She took another fortifying breath and grabbed a self-inking quill.

Without preamble, she shoved the paper at him. "You need to sign this."

His eyes flicked across the page and his eyes widened, "A hundred thousand galleons?" he choked out. "Are you mental?" He turned to face the wall.

She smirked, and said evenly, "What's your cock worth to you?"

He bellowed, "That's blackmail!"

She smiled and nodded agreeably, saying lightly, "Yes, I think it is."

"You're going to charge me almost three hundred and fifty thousand pounds for a counter curse?!"

"Huh!" Her eyebrows went up with a look of feigned interest. "You know muggle money. Who knew?" Malfoy growled. "No. I'm not going to charge you a hundred thousand galleons for a counter curse. You're going to _give_ me the hundred thousand galleons and I'm going to be _nice_ and uncurse your bits for free." She pasted on a fake sweet smile.

"Merlin's manky balls!" He cursed, then sat thinking about it. "What the hell do you need so much money for anyway?"

She bit her lip and looked away. "I can't tell you," she mumbled.

He scoffed in disbelief. "Then I can't give it to you."

She looked again at his shrunken, black manhood and shrugged. She said lightly, "Okay. Your loss. I didn't figure you had that much anyway." She started to walk back to the table.

"Granger, wait!" She turned back around. "Of course I have that much! What the hell is going on? What kind of trouble are you in?"

He was caving, she could feel it. She wasn't going to beg; not Malfoy the amazing bouncing ferret, not ever. But she could wheedle. "I _will_ tell you. You _will_ find out. Just not right now. Not yet."

He glared at her.

"I'll even sign a promissory note," She went on. "If you don't approve of where the money's gone, you can sue me in the Ministry, smear my name all over the papers, do whatever you want. I just don't have time to play games." She twitched her head toward his crotch. "And neither do you."

Malfoy growled in frustration before finally grumbling, "Fine! But you owe me a favor. Of my choosing."

Hermione stuck her hand out, preparing to shake, but pulled it back quickly. She narrowed her eyes. "No sexual favors." He was opening his mouth to protest, but she talked right over him, "I mean it!"

He gave a disappointed sigh, then said, "Fine."

She smirked and shook his right hand. She brought over a book for him to sign against and handed him the quill. He scrawled his name. Snatching the form in victory, she placed it on the table. "Hey! Granger! What about my counter curse?"

"I didn't forget." She laughed, flicking her wand to remove the color charm, conjuring boxers to cover him and pulling up the blanket. She brought over two cups of cocoa.

He shook his head and said laughing, "You're evil, Granger. You know that?"

"Hey! You started it!" She said, trying to be indignant and failing when she started giggling. "You're really gonna be mad when I tell you it was just a color changing charm."

Malfoy was gobsmacked. She nearly fell off the edge of the bed she was laughing so hard. He shook his head playfully, "You got sorted into the wrong house. You're Slytherin for sure." She was still trying to catch her breath when he cracked a sudden mischievous smirk, "Played your hand a little too soon, Granger. I'm the king of Slytherins and I still have a favor to cash in."

The laptop phone rang. Hermione sobered at once. Malfoy gave her a long look, eyebrows raised in question.

"That'll be your father. Stay quiet." She sat at the table and threw up a _muffliato_ charm so Malfoy wouldn't hear.

Sliding on the headphones, she hit the button on the laptop to answer the phone line. "Yes?" She typed into the text to speech program.

To her surprise Narcissa Malfoy spoke, "It is done."

Hermione typed, "We know. Draco appreciates it."

"I want to talk to my son!" She demanded.

"Perhaps in a moment. Do you have a quill?" Hermione's fingers flew across the keyboard.

"Y-yes." The older woman stuttered as a shuffling noise came from the other end of the line.

"Write down Frederick Nott, seven days. Then phone this number." She gave Narcissa the new phone number she'd be switching to on her voice over internet phone card.

"But we just bought seven days!" Narcissa shrilled through Hermione's headphones.

"The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you will be reunited with your son." Hermione gave a calculated pause, then typed, "We can always wait the full seven days before we give you the next task, if you like."

"No! No! We'll do it!" Malfoy's mother said desperately.

Hermione smirked, the sooner they got this over with, the sooner Draco Malfoy was out of her hair. She was saving a bottle of champagne in her beaded bag for that happy day. The text to voice program spoke as she typed, "Give that to Lucius with any...encouragement he might need."

"Yes, of course. Wait! When do I get to talk to Draco?" She begged this last bit. If Hermione ever had a question whether Narcissa Malfoy loved her son, everything she ever needed to convince her was in that anguished voice.

"Just a minute, let me get him." She dropped the _muffliato_ charm and unplugged the headset, re-routing the sound to the speakers. She said to Malfoy, "Your mother wants to talk to you. You tell me what to type and you'll be able to hear her answers." He instantly perked up. "You should say something in the beginning so she knows it's you. She won't be able to hear your voice."

Malfoy thought for a moment and said, "Ask her if she remembers going to Italy when I was four? Tell her it was the time I fell in the canal from the gondola." Hermione typed as fast as she could.

Over the laptop speakers, Narcissa sobbed in relief, "Draco! Oh, my son! What are they doing to you, sweetheart?"

Hermione glanced up when it took Malfoy a moment to respond. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears, "Tell her I'm fine. Tell her I just had cocoa. Say I'll be home soon. Say everything will be alright. Make her believe it."

"Your father is so angry. How dare they threaten to m-" Hermione snapped the headset in the jack, effectively cutting off the audio. She ignored Malfoy's protests.

She typed furiously, "He doesn't know. He doesn't need to. We have every confidence you and Lucius will do whatever is required and no harm will come to him or your bloodline. I won't warn you again."

"Please. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." Narcissa Malfoy's voice was ragged with fear. Hermione was glad Draco wasn't hearing it. It wouldn't do to get him worked up again.

"No more mistakes." Hermione warned over the keys.

Malfoy meanwhile was yelling, "What the hell, Granger? What happened to my mother?"

She purposefully chose a smooth, even tone to reply to him and said, "Calm down, Malfoy. We had to establish some rules. She's still on the line. What do you want to say?"

"Ask her if she's alright. She doesn't sound right." He said plaintively.

"Yes, sweetheart, I'm fine, just a little tired. I haven't been sleeping well. I ran out of potions." She did sound tired, more tired than anyone Hermione had ever heard.

Malfoy frowned and said, "Tell her to have Minky get her some more. She needs her rest."

Hermione finished transcribing his speech while watching the timer on the phone call. When it approached three minutes, she said to Malfoy, "You're out of time, say goodbye."

He grunted in frustration, then said hurriedly, "Tell her I have to go. Tell her we'll talk again soon. Ask her to please take good care of herself. Tell her I love her, Granger."

Mrs. Malfoy choked back a sob, then managed to say, "I love you, too."

Hermione disconnected the call, taking her time saving the file and putting everything away. She avoided looking at Malfoy. She wanted to give him some privacy to digest the phone call with his mother.

Eventually, after straightening up, dragging in the fire wood and wiping down the kitchenette, she ran out of things to do. She spooned out two bowls of the thick stew Dobby had left on the stove and added big chunks of crusty, buttered bread. She went outside and dug two muggle beers from the melting snow.

She pushed a chair over to the side of Malfoy's bed placing the bowl and a tall glass of beer on it within reach. Placing her own meal on the table, she sat down.

Malfoy looked at her, then asked quietly, "Granger? Do you mind if I join you?"

An hour later, they were leaning over the portable chess board. Hermione took a sip of beer and opened the game by moving her white pawn. Malfoy moved a black pawn. This continued until several pawns were in the center of the board. On Malfoy's next turn he slid a pawn diagonally forward and took the white pawn she'd just pushed forward two squares from behind.

Hermione choked on a swallow of beer to protest, "Hey! Put that back!"

"What?" He fingered the first taken piece of the game with a smirk.

"Pawns don't move like that. They can't go diagonally! You cheated!" She folded her arms and huffed.

"It's called an _en passant._ It's French rule added in the 15th century to counter the double-square pawn opening move." He watched her as she scowled so deeply her left eye twitched. "It means I just kicked your pawn's ass." Laughing at the expression on her face, he put the pawns back. Demonstrating the move slowly, he said, "Here, look."

"If it's so legal, why didn't Ron teach it to me?" Hermione spat.

"You're asking me to explain the inner workings of Weasel's two brain cells?" He thought for a moment. "No. I take that back. Weasel has no brain at all. I mean, he had a fifty percent chance of choosing right and he goes for Lavender Brown over you! What an idiot!"

"What did you just say?" She looked at him in suspicious disbelief.

"What? I just said Weasel didn't have a brain," he said evasively.

Hermione's eyes narrowed before angrily yanked a stray curl behind her ear. "Don't you butter me up, ferret! You're just trying to distract me from your cheating. Well, it won't work!"

Ten minutes later they were both looking at the laptop screen. Malfoy whooped in victory. "I told you! Legal! Right there in black and white!"

In the chair next to him, Hermione slumped her chin on her palm and snapped, "Well, you don't have to be so smug about it!"


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello my lovelies! Things are going well in Dramione Land, and that's a shame. It's my duty as a good author to keep you interested and enthralled. So, I pushed them off a cliff. :)**

**Your reviews have been so supportive and wonderful. I know I'll never get near the reviews of the folks who wrote while the original series was still being published, but I assure you, I love each and every one of them. And! I write back! :) So, if you can, drop me a line, I really appreciate it. Thanks!**

**-Elvee**

* * *

Snatch

Chapter Ten

"Dignity: the doomed man's final refuge."

-Max Frisch

Over the next three days Hermione barricaded herself with her laptop. Tapping away industriously, she'd sent Dobby on errand after errand, giving him instructions in front of a glaring Malfoy from behind a _muffliato_ charm. The elf brought back scraps of paper, messages and even the spare key or two. Hermione sorted everything he handed her into two manilla envelopes, frequently while talking on her laptop phone, or in between bouts of frantic typing.

Malfoy was left to entertain himself; something Hermione found he didn't excel at in the least. She'd piled books, a muggle DVD player and movies, even yarn and a crochet hook by his bed each morning in the one-off hope that today would be the day he wouldn't sulk under one of her silencing spells.

Today, the third day she'd been buried in work, he'd made it until after lunch. She'd made him a loop in the yarn and explained how to do a single crochet stitch. In his defense, he only had one arm free, so sewing at all was going to be a challenge, but sewing or not, he was driving her batty with his incessant interruptions.

He wiggled the yarn again with the hook and gave a melodramatic sigh. She glanced at him. He let the yarn fall into his lap. She went back to her laptop. Time was not on her side and she had to get this done as quickly as possible. He pulled more yarn from the skein and proceeded to make an intricate knot with a hundred yards of wool. He sighed again. She gritted her teeth and tapped on her keyboard.

"Granger..." He asked with a voice on the edge of a whine.

She didn't answer or even look at him, merely raised her wand at his chest. He sighed. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him struggling with the knot with his one free hand. Dobby cracked in bearing an envelope. She thumbed through the contents and finding three muggle passports, seemed satisfied. She slid them in the fatter of the two envelopes.

"Granger!" Malfoy had worked himself up to full on whiny mode now.

She dropped her charm petulantly, rolling her eyes. She snapped, exasperated, "What Malfoy? For Merlin's sake, what?!"

"Are you done yet?" He asked sheepishly.

"No! I am not done yet." She turned back to her pile of paperwork. It wasn't a stack of parchment, it was a pile of meticulously white paper with uniform black writing on it. She was filling them out with a ball point pen instead of a quill.

He wheedled, "You're working like a house elf! Everyone needs a break, Granger! Com'on!"

"You're exceedingly well treated for a _prisoner_, Malfoy. Now, shut it. I'm busy." She threw her _muffliato_ charm back up and sent Dobby off on another errand. The stack of galleons Dobby had withdrawn from the bank three days ago was finally beginning to dwindle. She'd checked and double-checked her lists. She was almost done, four or five more hours at the most. If she could keep Malfoy from driving her to drink, that was. That was a mighty big '_if_'.

She still hadn't heard from Lucius or Narcissa about Nott. Their time was running out and the lack of results was setting her teeth on edge. Snape hadn't written in the journal all week. Tension was running high, timetables were closing in and she was going to strangle Malfoy. All in all, it was a normal day.

Around dinner time, Hermione finally powered down her laptop and cleared the table, placing everything in her beaded bag. After a moment of deliberation, she pulled out the fire whiskey and poured herself a shot. She sipped at it, sputtering as it burned down her throat. Malfoy raised his eyebrows hopefully at her. She let her forehead fall gently to the table and rubbed the back of her neck.

Of course, as soon as she was done, he would expect her to be his bored wizard's chew toy. She sighed and pulled up a chair next to his bed. "Yes?"

"Are you done _now_?" He asked hopefully.

She tipped her head back and forth, signaling more or less. "For the most part."

"What were you doing?"

She narrowed her eyes in warning, saying, "It's none of your concern."

"Com'on Granger! I nearly died of boredom. Hell, I even tried to crochet myself to death." He held up his knot of yarn.

She took the yarn from his lap, wrapping it into a ball as she untangled it. "If you must know, I was spending your money."

He shook his head. "You look way too unhappy for a witch that just spent a hundred thousand galleons of someone else's money."

She shrugged, "Believe what you want." She huffed a breath through her bangs, making them even puffier than they had been all day. "Not that you deserve it after your behavior the last three days, but would you like to join me for dinner at the table with the big people?"

He gave her a genuine smile, "You mean it?"

She moved him to the table and they had dinner almost like civilized people. Dobby served the steak and kidney pie and stood by refilling their goblets with pumpkin juice. Conversation turned to the muggle moving pictures she'd played for him on her portable DVD player.

He stopped his spoonful of peas halfway to his mouth. "So wait, you're telling me muggles -filthy cretinous muggles- sent a man to the moon?"

She nodded enthusiastically, her mouth too full to speak. He burst out laughing. He dropped his spoon, peas bouncing, and clutched his belly, struggling to regain his composure. "But that's...Oh, Granger, that's a good one!"

She smiled at him, "No, really. They did."

He was wiping tears of laughter from the corner of his eyes, and said, "And you believe this load of hippogryph dung?"

She kept her voice even and nonchalant as she replied, "Of course. I've seen the pictures and movies. Almost every major muggle nation has been to the moon."

He'd picked up his spoon again, but let the tip fall against the plate, choosing to argue first, scoop up more peas later. "Granger! Every firstie knows that you can't go to the moon. Gamp's fourteenth law says..."

Hermione raised one eyebrow. "Gamp's laws govern magic. Muggles don't use magic."

"But..." He blinked. "You're serious?"

"As serious as a basilisk bite." She allowed herself a smug smile.

"So the moving pictures really happened?" His spoon paused scraping up more food from his plate. _The Right Stuff_, the last movie she'd played for him, was about astronauts.

"The _movie_ was plausible fiction." She wiped her mouth with a napkin and motioned for Dobby to clear her plate.

Over pudding, Malfoy kept looking out the window at the moon. When he was scraping the last of his treacle tart from his plate he asked, his voice full of wonder, "They really did?"

She nodded, giving him a soft smile. "They really did."

"You're lying." He smirked.

She drew herself up indignantly, huffing out, "I would never! I may not tell you everything, Malfoy, but I don't lie to you."

"Not telling someone is a lie of omission," he pointed out.

Hermione shrugged, "It depends on the circumstances. In this case you're my prisoner, so you're lucky I tell you anything at all."

When the last of the plates was cleared away, and they each had a cup of steaming cocoa to nurse, Malfoy smirked at her, "If it isn't a lie, then tell me why you gave me a love potion."

"Figured it out, have you? Disgusted you threw yourself at a mudblood, Malfoy?" It was only a matter of time. She'd been underestimating too many people lately and wasn't going to let something like Malfoy figuring out she'd drugged him throw her for a loop.

He gave a lecherous smirk. "You got my clothes off and just couldn't control yourself, could you?"

She almost choked on her hot chocolate. "You wish, Ferret."

He ran a hand over his bare chest suggestively. "Com'on Granger, nothing to be ashamed of. It's okay. I'll forgive you, just admit it."

Her eyes darted to his hand rubbing over his well sculpted chest. Her tongue darted out over her lips before she could catch herself. She blew out a breath and shook her head, not even knowing why she was going to attempt doing battle with his enormous ego. "Malfoy, look at it logically: You're bigger, stronger and faster than me. I had to do something to keep you calm."

He ran two fingers over his lips with a faraway look in his eyes. He suddenly looked up as if he held a trump card. "There's also the matter of you kissing me."

"So you would've preferred staying petrified? Is that what you're saying?" Hermione leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Twice. You kissed me twice." He was beaming a predatory smile at her now.

"Face it, Malfoy, I'm not your favorite person. You wouldn't hesitate to hurt me."

He blinked and recoiled, his train of thought obviously derailed. "That's not true!"He cried.

Hermione snorted. "Of course it's true! You'd do whatever you could to escape. I'd do the same thing in your shoes."

"You don't know me at all, Granger. I don't hit women," he growled.

She gave a bark of disbelief, "You brained me with an iron shackle!"

"A mudblood was chaining me to a bed! I had to defend my honor!"

"Oh that's right, I forgot. I'm a mudblood, not a woman. I don't count, do I?" She asked acidly, absently rubbing her temple.

"It was a love tap!" He spotted the scar on the temple of her angry face, then dropped his eyes and barreled on, "Anyway, you hit me first!"

"That was years ago! So now that you have seventy pounds and ten inches on me, it was time to even the score? Big man, Malfoy."

"You kidnapped me!" He retorted.

"We've already established that." Her anger had turned to impatience. "And I only gave you a few drops of love potion. Not enough to make a fool of yourself."

"What we've _established_ is that you like bad boys. Scarhead and Weasel just don't do it for you. I get it. You like me," he smirked.

"Don't be stupid," she spat. "I kidnapped you."

His voice was so smooth, inviting confidence. "Granger, it's okay to admit it. You can tell me. It's just us. Lots of girls would..."

"You really want to go there?"She interrupted. "I seem to recall _someone_ wanting to join my little 'club'." She used her fingers in the air to make quotation marks when she said the word club.

"That doesn't count. I was under the effects of a love potion, you even admitted it," he said defensively.

"Sorry, Malfoy. It was too long to blame that one on the potion, Malfoy. As a matter of fact, by my calculations, you should have only been affected for twenty-four to thirty hours. The love potion wore off last week," She finished with a smug smirk on her face.

"Granger, what did you mean when you said 'if my father plays his cards right I could have a mudblood of my own'?" She went silent. She had been angry, sure, but that still wasn't the brightest thing to say. It gave entirely too much of her plan away. "You're not thinking of... Merlin's hairy balls! You're joining the Death Eaters?" She closed her eyes and gave herself a mental face palm. Unless, of course, Malfoy was an idiot.

She patted his cheek patronizingly saying, "So pretty and yet so stupid. Pity." She petrified him and moved him to his bed. "You're obviously overwrought. Time for bed."

When she released the petrification, he squirmed, "You can't! You don't know how they treat mudbloods, Granger."

"I didn't know you cared, Ferret. I'm touched," She joked. Then, seeing he was very serious, she laid a hand on his cheek to calm him, saying gently, "Malfoy, I can't tell you what I'm doing, but I can tell you this much: I am _not_ joining the Death Eaters."

Her eyes flew to the door. The wards had gone off. Multiple people had breached her wards. One was Professor Snape, but he wasn't alone.

Malfoy's eyes flicked to the door, then back to Hermione's face. "Granger! What is it?" There was an edge of panic in his voice.

She tried to maintain her calm facade. "It's time for your potion, Malfoy." She summoned her bag and took out a sleeping potion.

"He's back, isn't he? He's back and you're going to..." She put the potion to his lips, but he batted it away. "You can't do this, Hermione. He'll promise you anything, but he'll hurt you. You've got to believe me!"

"Don't make me stun you, Malfoy. Take your potion like a good little prisoner." She tried to give him the potion, but he struggled again, thrashing his head violently.

From outside she heard Snape yelling, "Miss Granger!" Merlin! What if Malfoy recognized his voice?

She stunned Malfoy and made him swallow the potion. She cast the _enervate_ then dashed out the door.

Outside in the chilly night, a tall, shadowy shape carried something large and unmoving. The fingernail moon was stingy with its moonlight, giving nothing away except the fact that the figure closed on her. She drew her wand and cast a _lumos_ charm.

"Well, girl! Don't stand there gawping! Help me get him inside." As Professor Snape entered the circle of light from her wand she could see he was carrying another man with great effort. She started to cast the levitation charm, but Snape stopped her with a curt, "No. I'm holding one of his wounds shut so he doesn't bleed to death. Just open the door."

She ran back to the cabin and opened the door, pushing the table and chairs out of the way, clearing a path to her bed. Malfoy's eyes were open but drooping. In the light of the cabin, Professor Snape was sallow with pain and effort. Sweat and blood ran down his face and between his fingers. The limp form he carried wore a matching long velvet robe and a Death Eater Mask.

He strode to the bed and barked over his shoulder, "Quickly! Blood replenisher and the strongest pain potion you have." He laid the form gently on her bed and began stripping him of his clothes with flicks of his wand.

Hermione summoned her bag and retrieved the potions. She slapped them in his outstretched hand as he barked, "A basin of clear water and a flannel. Com'on, Miss Granger! Hurry!"

With a squeak she summoned a bowl, conjured a flannel and filled the bowl with water with a simple _aguamenti_ charm. She transfigured a piece of fire wood into a rolling cart and pushed it next to the bed, setting the bowl on top.

Professor Snape was healing long festering gashes in the man's torso, running his wand along them and muttering under his breath. Her sheets were covered in his blood, some dripping onto the floor. The injured Death Eater's breathing was shallow, irregular and gurgling. She didn't have to be healer to know gurgling while breathing was never good.

"Remove his mask and check for wounds, make sure his airway is clear," Professor Snape snapped.

She crossed behind Snape as he continued to work and gingerly lifted the Death Eater Mask. She gasped. It was Viktor Krum. Viktor Krum, who Malfoy told her took the Dark Mark voluntarily. Viktor Krum who never told her he was turning down the dark path. Viktor Krum who betrayed her friendship.

"Have you never seen a dying man, Granger?" Professor Snape sneered between healing spells.

She backed away, stunned. Numbly she said, "Why did you bring him here? He can't stay."

"You _will_ help me heal this man, Miss Granger. Now, get to work!" Snape turned and scowled at her.

Her spine stiffened and her hackles went up. She said through gritted teeth, "I am no longer your student, Master Snape. Neither am I an Order member or a Death Eater. This is my house. I have every right to refuse this man succor and I do. Please leave."

Snape made an exasperated sound and turned back to Viktor's still form, continuing to work on him. "I do _not_ have time for your insolence. This man is dying. I demand..."

"You are not in a position to demand anything," she said tartly.

"If you recall, three thousand galleons of the Order's money was used to secure this..."

Maybe he finished his sentence, maybe he didn't. She wasn't listening, instead she pulled the sack of galleons out of her bag. She magically counted out three thousand galleons, conjured a purse to put them in and tossed it on the bed next to him. "Take it and get out."

He goggled at her before pulling his facial expression back under careful control. "He told the Dark Lord you were friends."

"I thought we were." She held up the mask she still held in her hands. "This says otherwise."

"This man is an Order member! He will die if I have to move him again." Snape pinned her with a murderous glare.

Viktor was an Order member? Realization crashed over her. Of course! It all made sense! Why he would volunteer to be a Death Eater, why he wouldn't tell her what he was doing, why Snape couldn't take him anywhere else. Malfoy wouldn't have known that! He was a spy. Oh, Merlin, how could she have doubted him?

She bent over Viktor's still form, whispering, "Oh, Viktor, you idiot! You could have told me!" She wiped his face clean of blood and carefully tilted his neck, checking his airway.

An hour later Master Snape sat at the table shirtless, letting her heal a large gash on his back. She worked methodically, cleaning and closing the wound. "What do you suggest I tell Malfoy?" She asked.

His back still facing her, he said, "We'll have to think of something. Mr. Krum won't be able to be moved for some time."

She rolled her eyes behind the older man's back. "He's going to be impossible! He already thinks..." she broke off, blushing.

He stiffened and waited for her to finish. A rivulet of blood ran from the unhealed portion of his gash. When she didn't, he asked, "He already thinks what, Miss Granger?"

She cleared her throat and paused in her healing, not trusting her hands to remain steady. "That we're lovers." When he turned to face her, his brow raised, demanding an explanation, she blushed even more furiously. She stammered on, "Not _you_ per se... just that I have a romance going on with the Death Eater that showed up last week."

"Interesting." He took in her blush, studying her slowly before saying, "That could work to our advantage."

"What?!" She squeaked before she could follow the rapid fire thoughts that were shooting through her head. Any advantage they could reap would be the result of Voldemort knowing she was close to Viktor. For something this monumental Viktor's word wouldn't be enough. If Snape could back up his story, he certainly wouldn't be hiding him here while he healed. The only way that would happen is if Malfoy was returned to the Death Eaters.

"Actually," Snape gave a predatory smile. "If young Mr. Malfoy runs back to his parents, then the Dark Lord will have no choice but to believe that Krum has you under his thumb. It would explain his absence while he heals and elevate his status considerably, giving him access to more sensitive information for the Order."

That idea, sound as it might be from an information gathering standpoint, made her stomach churn. She'd sacrificed so many things already to win the war: her friends, her parents, even her future. She wasn't about to hand Malfoy over to those animals on a silver platter. He'd suffered enough. They all had. That's what her entire plan had been about.

After she finished treating his wound, Snape pulled his shirt back over his shoulder and worked to button it up. She cleared away the mess, taking the time to think furiously. As she sat down in a seat across from her old professor, she said, quite clearly, "No."

Snape conjured a tea tray. His shock at her lack of cooperation must have surprised him as it appeared a few inches above the table and landed with a crash. "Excuse me?"

"No. Malfoy won't be told." With a flick of her wand she conjured a large sheet and suspended it around her old bed, where Viktor Krum now fought for his life.

"You're a fool," he spat. "The Order needs every advantage we can get!"

"It may be an advantage for us, but at what cost? What would Malfoy get out of it? More torture at the hands of that monster? Watching his mother get gang raped again when he has too much humanity in him to dice up a living person?"

"Your Griffindor sensibilities are clouding your judgement," he sneered.

"The wise man does at once what the fool does eventually," she quoted. When Snape opened his mouth to argue and it was clear reasoning wasn't going to prevail, she stood and slapped a hand on the table. "You forget yourself! Malfoy is _my_ prisoner, Master Snape," She sniffed. "I will decide what he does and doesn't do."

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she could feel him calculating the possible outcomes to the situation if he didn't comply.

She hissed through clenched teeth, "I knew there was a reason you were dragging your feet on rescuing Narcissa! You planned to sacrifice Malfoy all along. You Order bastards aren't much better than the Death Eaters!"

"How convenient you can forget you're using him as well." His eyes flashed, but his face was an impassive mask.

Hermione's hair crackled with wild magic. She leaned into the Potions Master and snarled, "He'll live through my plans. Can you say the same?"


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Courtesy of being snowed in yesterday in Evanston, Wyoming, I give you Chapter 11. After struggling to fit Lucius in more (because I do love him, le sigh), I found the plot flows better this way. Boo! I know. I was disappointed, too. **

**There are some massive plot developments and character arcs in this chapter. So even though no one gets naked and no one kisses anyone else, it is absolutely pivotal to the story and the upcoming development of Dramione as a couple.**

**I can't believe I got 6 reviews in 24 hours! They were thoughtful and funny and I squee-d when I read them. Thank you, my lovelies, you made my day! If you'd like to donate to the 'love the artist' campaign, feel free to hit that little review button. I'd love to hear from you. I'm also working on 12 as we speak and I could have it up as soon as tomorrow if you guys are ready for it. It'll be a lot more... well, you'll see.**

**-Elvee**

* * *

Snatch

Chapter Eleven

"The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them."

-Ernest Hemmingway

Hermione sat up late in the night, long after Snape had taken one of the cots she'd conjured. She had downed a shot of fire whiskey and was working on a second as she stewed these new revelations over. This wasn't the first time she'd had to question the Order's methods. Stan Shunpike had been tortured by the Order before they turned him over to the Ministry as a Death Eater. Stan Shunpike, for Merlin's sake! The Knight Bus conductor couldn't even finish his own sentences if it wasn't for the driver Ernie. She'd overheard the results of the torture session being reported late one night at Grimmauld Place, when the adults thought she, Harry and Ron were asleep.

It had made her skin crawl, it enraged her, it opened her eyes. There were no good sides in this war. Dumbledore wasn't a loveable old man. He was a Machiavellian planner. The only major difference was that the Order didn't torture and kill muggles and muggle-borns out of hand. Granted, that was a big difference, but the fact that both sides were using sadistic means had been burned into her that night, and she never forgot it.

Snape was Dumbledore's right hand, doing the dirty deeds and wet work that the old wizard wasn't willing to. He wasn't just a spy, that was more than obvious. She eyed Snape warily. His breathing was even and he was snoring softly. She didn't trust him as far as she could throw a hippogryph. For Malfoy's sake, she couldn't afford to. How dare he even suggest Malfoy return to the Manor?

Thinking of Malfoy, she stood up to tuck his blanket over his shoulders. He looked so innocent in sleep, his white hair tousled and hanging over one eye. She reached out and smoothed it back. Her hand froze when he took a deep breath and murmured, "Granger" before the ghost of a smile passed over his features. He was dreaming, apparently about her. When he took another deep breath and snuggled deeper into his pillow she withdrew her hand.

"Don't worry, Malfoy. We've got this," she whispered before tucking him in gently and retiring to her own cot.

As Hermione rose out of the depths of sleep early the next morning, she heard hushed voices. Opening her eyes a fraction of an inch she saw Snape and Malfoy eating breakfast together. Malfoy was considering something Snape said carefully. He was completely dressed and unshackled.

That greasy git! He had no right undermining her authority!

She froze for a moment collecting herself. It would do no one any good to fly off the handle. As they began to speak in hushed tones again, Hermione took her cue and sat up. She was still in her clothes from last night. Snape glared a challenge at her. Malfoy didn't spare her a glance, instead he seemed to be considering something the older man had said. She took the chair across from Malfoy, making sure her wand was handy. Snape had clearly anticipated her losing her temper. _Good_, she thought, _keep him off balance. It will make him easier to handle_.

"Morning, Ferret. Snape," she said neutrally.

Malfoy studied her, then said with a smirk, "No more free peeks, Granger."

She yawned before retorting with a smirk of her own, "You'll lose them eventually. We both know it."

A flicker of pain played its way across Snape's features before he smoothed his face into an impassive mask. Malfoy dropped his fork and clutched his left arm with a hiss. As Snape stood to leave, she pulled the Magicaine out of her bag.

"Roll up your sleeve, Malfoy." Remembering the murtlap essence, he complied immediately.

Snape leaned over to look in the jar Hermione had just opened. His eyebrow went up and he shifted his eyes between them before stiffening slightly and launching himself out the door to answer his master's summons.

Wordlessly, she smoothed the balm over his Dark Mark, then smoothed an equal amount over her own left forearm.

Malfoy gave her a quizzical look. "I know it smells good, Granger, but you should leave that for those of us who need it."

"You were good at potions, Malfoy. Do you even know what this is?" She tipped to container so he could see inside. He squinted at the open container., smelled his arm, then frowned and shook his head. "It's called Magicaine. Ring any bells?"

His eyes widened with recognition, then suddenly he was yelling, "Wash it off right now, Granger!" Malfoy was angry, very angry. She flinched as her left forearm began to burn. It felt like her blood was boiling in that part of her arm. It felt like a razor blade was peeling back her skin. It was excruciating, and she sucked in a breath between clenched teeth.

Malfoy jumped up from the table and ransacked the cupboards in the kitchenette. He found a tea towel and a bowl. He filled the bowl with icy water from the hand pump and threw the small towel in it. He slammed the bowl down on the table next to her, sloshing water all over her breakfast. He wrung out the towel and turned to apply it to her arm only to be brought up short by Hermione's wand pointed right between his eyes.

"It's fine, Malfoy. I can take it. It's only half of your pain." Magicaine worked by transferring half of the pain from an injured person to the brewer of the balm. Merlin on a stick, did it hurt. She struggled to maintain her composure and won by a thread.

He still held the dripping towel over her arm, but had stopped trying to go any further. "Granger, you don't have to do this."

"I know. Now go finish your breakfast." Hermione struggled to keep her voice calm and collected.

Instead of finishing his own breakfast he made her a new plate and poured her a blessed cup of hot coffee. The cream and sugar were perfect, all this time he must have been watching her closer than she could even guess. She inclined her head in thanks, but left her plate untouched. She eyed her coffee warily and with a shaking hand examined it very carefully for tampering before taking her first sip.

"So what, Granger, you think I'm going to poison you now?" He rolled his eyes.

"You weren't the only person sitting at this table, Malfoy." She wasn't going to tell him she still didn't trust him, but she wasn't going to make it a secret she was suspicious of Snape, either. Whether he knew it or not, his life hung in the balance. She wouldn't say anything overt. She'd give Snape enough rope to hang himself, and pray that he'd slip.

As clueless as Malfoy might be about her supposed love life, she had every confidence he'd already picked up on her body language and slight turns of phrase. He may be a ferret, but ferrets had sharp eyes and a good nose for danger. He'd ask when he was ready. She just hoped the timing would allow her to tell him.

They sat there for the better part of an hour with Malfoy refilling her cup each time it emptied. In the meantime, she summoned Dobby and sent him to find a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and books on making a magical sink. She didn't bother to hide this request behind a buzzing _muffliato_ charm. When Dobby cracked away, she looked back across the table to find him staring at her, his eyebrow raised.

In response to his unspoken question, the only thing she said was, "Trust starts here, Malfoy."

Hermione left Malfoy unshackled as she set up the laptop to wait for Lucius's call. She warned him to stay away from the curtain around her old bed and kept one eye on him as he wandered around, eventually settling on picking a book from her shelf and sitting by the stove.

Hermione took advantage of Snape's absence and went behind the curtain to check on Viktor. He was breathing easier, and most of his large wounds were now angry pink lines. She picked up the clothes that littered the bed and the floor. As she did, she felt the distinct rigidity of Viktor's wand and froze.

She had no idea where Viktor would stand in her disagreement with Snape. They might be old friends, but he was in the Order now, and likely was taking his direction from the very man she'd just angered. She couldn't afford to have two armed wizards stand against her. Snape by himself would be a handful.

Deftly she pocketed his wand. If he woke up and stood with her, she could always give it back.

She ducked under the curtain and into the main room in time to catch Malfoy watching her. She met his gaze, but kept quiet. She took an empty vial out of her bag and filled it with milk, charming it to look like the mellow chalky blue of a sleeping draught. She pocketed it after charming it not to spoil.

She went through the paper with a fine toothed comb looking for any reference to Frederick Nott. The only thing was an article that suggested his son Theo would be taking over the reigns for the family company. So it was done, then. Not a moment too soon. Snape's power play was forcing her time-line.

She went to the pile of books Dobby had left on the table and transfigured the covers on all of her books to look like an assortment of dry academic texts. Then she began to read like her life depended on it. She had a feeling it probably would.

By the time the wards alerted her to Snape's return, she had devoured half of the first book, making copious notes. She stuffed the notes in her beaded bag and returned to her book. When Snape came through the door a few minutes later, she merely blinked owlishly up at him. After a dismissive glance at her, he disappeared behind the curtain without a word, checking on Krum.

She exchanged an unreadable look with Malfoy before returning to her book. While Snape was still behind the curtain, she hurriedly dropped to a knee alongside Malfoy. Throwing up a _muffliato_ she whispered quickly, "You're going to have to figure out who you trust and where you stand. You're out of time." He stared at her for a long second then nodded once. Dropping the charm she said in a louder voice, "I'm expecting a call any day now from your parents."

"Can I talk to her this time?" He asked cautiously.

"We'll see," she said noncommittally.

"Granger!" He hissed, trying to hide his impatience.

She shrugged and said simply, "Our negotiations are ongoing, Malfoy."

Exasperation got the better of him and he asked the question she knew had been on his lips for more than a week, "How hard can it be to hand over a fat sack of galleons?"

"Is _that_ what you think?" She put a thoughtful expression on her face for his benefit and made a noise of consideration as if to say, 'how interesting'. It didn't take him long to catch on. She'd just told him she hadn't asked for money at all. He flicked his eyes to the curtain then back to her face. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. No, neither Viktor nor Snape were part of the deal.

He looked surprised at that, but quickly forced the feelings away from his face. She stood, giving him a crisp nod and squeezed his shoulder, going back to her book.

Snape reappeared from the curtain moments later, wiping his hands on a clean towel. He rolled down his sleeves, covering his Dark Mark. With an Order member behind the curtain and the Dark Mark on his arm, it was a solid reminder of just how intelligent and cunning Snape could be.

Closing her book, she asked, "How is he?"

"Improving." His eyes tried to read her face since she wouldn't allow him to make eye contact. "How is your arm?" He sneered.

"Well enough." It actually hurt like a blast ended skrewt had crunched it in a pincer, but she wasn't about to tell him that. "So I heard a friend of ours had a little accident. Yesterday? The day before?"

"Two nights ago." His face gave away no flicker of emotion.

"That's too bad." After a thoughtful pause, she frowned at the leather journal on the table in front of her. This time she spoke in a light, brittle tone, saying, "You know I bought a leather journal days ago and can never seem to find time to write in it. You ever have that problem, Master Snape?" His lips tightened in reply. She gave a forced bright laugh, then said, "No, of course not. You would never be foolish enough to buy something you wouldn't use. You're far too sensible."

So, he was withholding information. He was also feeding Malfoy false information, she was sure of it. Ironically, out of everyone in the cabin, she could trust Malfoy the most. She had counted on not trusting anyone, but if she didn't try to communicate with Malfoy he might buy the line of crap Snape was feeding him and return to the Manor.

She hadn't kidnapped him to save his life, but now that she had the opportunity, she wasn't going to let it slip away. Last week she'd already decided Malfoy and his mother would walk away from this whole mess if she had anything to say about it. She hadn't told him, she hadn't promised him anything – and she wasn't going to. It was better to produce results than promise them.

Just then the laptop signaled an incoming call. Getting to her feet, she said smoothly, "I'm sure you can see yourself out, Master Snape?"

His features tightened, but he stood and said, "Of course." With a slight bow and a swirl of his black cape he went outside.

Hermione pulled the headphones on as Malfoy hovered over her shoulder. "Over there until I call for you." She pointed to a chair that couldn't see the screen. Malfoy plopped unhappily into it. After casting a muffling charm, she hit a key to answer the call and typed, "Yes?"

"It is done," Lucius Malfoy sneered through her headphones.

She waited a beat before replying, "Took your sweet time calling, Lucius." Talking with Lucius Malfoy was a whole different animal than negotiating with his wife. Or, rather, Malfoy Senior _was_ an animal, a predatory one. She had to gain and hold control of the conversation the whole way through or he would exploit whatever weakness he sensed.

His voice rose, but he didn't shout. Malfoys would never stoop to shouting. "Now see here..."

"Just for that we're going to put a little more pressure on you. There are two moles in the Ministry of Magic, buffoons both of them. Yaxley and Donovan. You have until midnight tomorrow."She held her breath after the text-to-speech program finally read the last of her frantic bout of typing. She was trying to see if she could keep him off balance. The phone call would go much better if she could.

"That's impossible!" Lucius spluttered.

"You are Lucius Malfoy, are you not? Or perhaps you are not worthy to sit at the Dark Lord's table? Tell us Lucius, have you truly fallen that far?"

"It takes time to arrange such... accidents." She could picture him talking down his nose to her as he said that in all his beautiful and terrible glory.

"Then don't make it look like an accident," she typed and the text-to-speech program made the sentence sound empty and foreboding. She slid one earphone away from her ear and asked Malfoy, "It's your father. Should I assume you have nothing to say?"

He pulled a face, then leaned across the table to lay a hand lightly on her wrist. "Ask for my mother, Granger. Please." It stunned her to see him so exposed.

In her other ear Lucius was ranting, "Fine. I will do it. But if you harm one hair on my son's head, I swear I will track you to the ends of the Earth and pluck out your eyes before I..."

"Flay us alive. Yes, yes, we know. Very big words from a man whose son sits in front of me as we speak. Would you like to hear him scream for us?" There was a seething silence at the other end of the line. She let the silence play out before continuing to type, "I'm going to take that as a 'no'. You take all the fun out of it, Lucius. He has such a lovely screaming voice. Give the muggle device to Narcissa, now, or you will never get the sound of his screams out of your pretty blonde head." It disgusted her to play the monster, but she had to maintain the Death Eater persona, and no Death Eater would hesitate to make the young man next to her scream.

There was a nervous pause, then Lucius replied smoothly, "My wife is not here at the moment."

"Not acceptable. She will contact me by midnight. It would be such a shame to disfigure his pretty face before he marries his mudblood bride." She let that sink in before typing, "Midnight, Lucius." She hit the button to disconnect the call and looked up into Malfoy's worried face. "He said she wasn't there."

He jumped to his feet, knocking the chair to the floor. "Liar! Where the hell is she gonna go, Granger? That jack bastard! She's hurt, I just know it!"

"Don't start worrying yet. We'll find out by midnight. I told him to have her call." She reset the laptop to prepare for Narcissa's call as Malfoy paced the floor like a tiger.

He stopped and looked at her, really looked at her. "You did that?"He asked softly.

She turned away, busying herself overmuch with the electronic equipment. "Mudbloods don't just spring up out of the ground, Malfoy. I used to have a mother, too."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Holy smoking bananas! Thanks for all the reviews, my lovelies! Due to popular demand, I give you Chapter 12, in which we discover a lie, accept an olive branch and create the possibility of chaos. Oh, and Draco is back down to boxers (also by popular demand)! :)**

**To my lovely reviewers – please forgive me! I haven't had time to reply to everyone this week and I feel like a real jerk. I made the decision to post another chapter instead after reading all the reviews that are urging me to do so. As a matter of fact, that's why you have this chapter ****_early_****.**

**Anywho, please review if you have a chance and let me know how it's going. I'm writing for ****_you_**** and I aim to please. :)**

**-Elvee**

**(The Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the world, they are the property of their respective author and copyright holders. The plot, Magicaine and the magic sink are mine. You may use the items if you like, just extend professional courtesy by PMing me and referencing this work in your own disclaimer.)**

* * *

Snatch

Chapter Twelve

"Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men's blood."

-Daniel Burnham

Malfoy and Snape had been playing the same game of chess for several hours. Hermione wished she would have had time to watch them square off. She was sure she'd learn much more than getting regularly trounced by Malfoy. Instead she had to settle for sizing the board and players up every few pages. Two men, one dark and worn, one light and fresh, hiding behind a checkered board and expressionless masks. Watching two Slytherins go head to head over chess was like watching them play poker with pawns.

If she had to make a guess, Hermione would have said Malfoy was sizing up his former Head of House. If she had to make another, she would have put hard galleons on the fact that Snape was sizing _her_ up, even though he gave the impression of watching Malfoy. Without a doubt he'd been to see Dumbledore before returning this morning. The melding of those two minds was something to be very wary of.

Perhaps she'd risked too much today telling the Ferret anything, but time was running out and she had to start somewhere. She couldn't help the fact that he knew how to press her buttons almost as well as she pressed his. She also couldn't help surreptitiously admiring him. She was finally ready to admit it was a cheap thrill keeping him in nothing but socks for days on end. If it had been Crabbe or Goyle, she would have covered them to protect her delicate sensibilities. She'd have withheld food or sleep, even oxygen; she'd rather do anything besides look at the giant slabs of jiggling flesh their robes were sure to conceal. Malfoy, however vile, however arrogant, however insulting, was nothing if not a beautiful specimen of the human male form.

He clearly wasn't as idiotic as some of his comments would lead her to believe. He was playing his own game, and if he bought into her trust, she was going to see his full hand very soon. The real question she pondered as she hid behind her book, was how much she could safely tell him. How in the hell would she keep him calm when he found out Lucius would probably fail his last task? How in the hell would _she_ stay calm and go through with the wedding?

If the wedding happened, they would be permanently bound. Bound in ways that would ruin both their lives permanently. No sex with anyone but each other and if either of them did something stupid and died, well tough luck, the other would follow in a matter of months. This type of magical contract didn't even recognize the concept of divorce. That was horrible enough, but the thing that terrified her, truly down to the marrow of her bones, was Malfoy's reaction. He wouldn't want to be married to her and she sure as hell didn't want to be Mrs. Bouncing Ferret, not even if he was an extraordinary physical specimen. Every time he opened his mouth, he'd ruin it. Consequently, if they married, she would bet her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ on the fact that she'd die a virgin.

Wasn't that a kick in the teeth?

No, he'd be as horrified as she was and would have no problem at all with running away, or even hurting her to keep from going through with it. He wasn't selfless enough to sacrifice for the greater good. She doubted it was even in his vocabulary. No. No matter how much she trusted him, she couldn't tell him.

She shook her head to clear it. No sense dwelling on it when the die was already cast. After another glance at the two men over the chess board, she turned back to the task at hand, and flipped to the next page. After a few more chapters of reading on magical sinks, she had to start taking notes. Her head was simply getting too full of academic facts from her current book and invisible intrigue from the other end of the table.

She scribbled in her own short hand, a code she'd used for her notes at Hogwarts composed of squiggles that represented sounds in the English language. She felt fairly confident neither Snape nor Malfoy had been to secretarial school, and so would be unable to unravel her shopping list for Dobby at a glance.

A groan sounded from behind the curtain. Snape stood immediately and ducked into the privacy of the sheet. As soon as he disappeared she scribbled: _He's a legilimens_ on the back of her list and shoved it down the table to Malfoy. He read it, raised one eyebrow, then pushed the paper back to her.

A buzzing noise was coming from behind the curtain. Snape was masking a conversation. Viktor was awake. She exchanged a look with Malfoy. If he'd been watched by anyone else, she doubted they'd catch the subtle change in his demeanor. His shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly, but she'd done her share of Ferret watching the last week and a half herself. At least he'd been easy on the eyes.

At that moment the laptop signaled an incoming call.

Hermione hitched her head to indicate Malfoy should pull up a chair with her behind the laptop. "Are you sure?" He asked then wandlessly put up a _muffliato_ charm of his own.

She blinked at his casual use of wandless magic, before another tone from the laptop brought her back to the task at hand. "Negotiations are done for the day. This is for you." Hermione slid the headset over her ears but left them unplugged so he could hear through the speakers. With her index finger she hit the button to connect the call.

"Yes?" She typed, then without a second thought fished around for the proper cable and plugged in the microphone.

A woman's voice, thready and thin answered, "_I was asked to contact you._" Upon jearing his mother's voice, Malfoy's face immediately crumpled into a scowl.

Hermione motioned to the microphone, mouthing, "Talk to her."

With a grateful look, Malfoy grabbed the microphone with both hands and brought it to his nose, saying loudly, "Mother? Are you alright?" Hermione adjusted his arms so the microphone was in front of his mouth. He threw her an annoyed glance until he understood what she was doing.

"_Draco? My darling is that really you?_" Narcissa sounded out of breath, like each word was an effort.

"Yes, it's me." These first few words were said eagerly, then he hesitated and asked softly, "Mother, what's the matter?"

The pause gave her lie away. "_Nothing dear, I'm just very tired._"

Horror crawled across his face. "What did he do to you? I'll kill him," Malfoy hissed.

"_You mustn't speak about your father so. He's under a lot of stress._" Even beaten as Malfoy's threats implied, her voice radiated a motherly scolding, but she couldn't hold the tone for long, "_I'll be fine, sweetheart. Don't worry about me. How are you?_"

"I'm good, Mother. As a matter of fact, I was sitting at the table playing chess. They tell me I'll be home soon." He forced cheer into his voice without effort. Hermione had to hand it to him, he was an excellent liar.

"_Of course you will. Your father is working very hard to secure your release._" As thin as her voice was, it was filled with certainty. So, Lucius Malfoy was an animal that kept his promises. That still didn't make him father of the year, and it certainly didn't change her plan one iota.

Malfoy gave Hermione a long, measured look. Then he surprised her by asking, "Mother which prisoner was sent to secure my release?"

"_Prisoner? Draco, I don't understand._" She sounded fragile and confused.

Malfoy scrunched his brows together, confused himself for a moment, then cleared his throat and continued lightly, "Never mind. It was a silly question. Are you in bed?"

"_I am in your father's study. It's the only room that still has the privacy charm on it._"

"Mother, I insist you go to bed right away. Get Minky to call the healer. Please?" In that moment, Malfoy sounded like the man he had become: commanding and persuasive.

"_Oh, you don't know, do you? Our healer was found dead in Diagon Alley last week. I'll be alright. Severus came by this morning and left me a few things._" The mention of Snape seemed to take some of the worry out of her voice. The trust in her words was obvious.

He put the microphone in a stranglehold, shaking with the effort not to break it. Malfoy's eyes darkened with anger, but he kept his voice light, "There you are then. Take what Uncle Sev gave you and try to get some rest. I'll be home before you know it and we'll have tea in the garden."

Narcissa's voice was now just a shade above a whisper, "_Alright. I love you, sweetheart._"

"I love you, too, Mother." For the first time Malfoy's voice held real longing and emotion. It was almost as if he'd forgotten Hermione was there.

At his nod, she disconnected the call and pried the microphone out of Malfoy's white knuckled hands. She began disconnecting her laptop, speaking softly, "Play it smart, Draco. Your mother probably isn't the type to check her morning coffee."

His eyes were flashing and his face was flushed. Hermione had never seen him this angry. He hissed, "He said it was a prisoner trade. He said he couldn't see her or get a message to her. Lying sack of..."

Hermione gripped his elbow firmly and whispered, "Soon. Very soon."

At the opposite end of the table Snape watched every movement between them with glittering black eyes.

"Thanks, Granger." He said, his face carefully blank. Hermione gave him a small nod and he picked up his chair, returning to the chess game.

She tapped her list of ingredients for the magic sink with her wand. The words changed from shorthand to English. Quickly she scribbled instruction on the bottom that all of her purchases were to be put in a velvet bag before returning. The last thing she needed was for Snape to see she was building a magical sink. She called Dobby and asked him if he could pick up a few things. Dobby took the list along with the purse she handed him and with a crack, disapperated away.

Dobby returned within the hour, laden with a large, lumpy purple velvet bag. Hermione stuffed it immediately in her beaded bag and asked for an early supper. No one mentioned the bag, but it was like the giant purple flobberworm in the middle of the room.

She tried to make easy conversation as Dobby served roast turkey and mashed potatoes. Once she caught Snape's eye, she indicated the curtain with a twitch of her head. "How is he?"

Snape lowered his goblet and sat back as Dobby filled his plate. "As expected." He shrugged. "I gave him a pain potion and a strong sedative. His body needs time to heal."In other words, he wasn't leaving any time soon. That was the wrong answer..

"Good. So he's out of danger. When will you be able to move him?" It was a softly veiled threat, like a knife in a velvet sheath. It was a dead giveaway that Malfoy had told her what they'd discussed at breakfast. It was her challenge to his lie.

Snape was accomplished in deception, the challenge washed easily over his smooth features. He replied, "I am not a healer, therefore I am going to err on the side of caution and say three or four days."

That was too long to have Snape underfoot. If everything went smoothly, it was going to interfere with her plan. In three days she'd be up to her eyeballs with the arrangements in France. "You have two," she said. Her voice was soft, but it brooked no argument. If they weren't gone, she'd get rid of them, courtesy of the contents of the velvet bag. She needed to deal with them soon, just like she'd told Malfoy earlier.

He glared at her, sneering, "Very well. I'll be sure to tell him about your _hospitality_."He all but spat the last word.

"You do that," she said with a brittle smile, taking a bite of her turkey.

The rest of dinner was an awkward affair. The only sound was the clinking of cutlery and the refilling of goblets. As the last of the dessert plates were cleared away, Hermione said to Malfoy, "Time for bed. You were up far too early this morning."

Malfoy exchanged a glance with Snape, but rose from the table. He stripped to a t-shirt and his boxers before flopping on the bed and pulling up his blanket. She conjured a shackle on his left hand, then placed the most difficult ward she knew over it, making a small cut on her hand and dipping her wand in the wound before casting. It was a blood ward, the strongest kind, requiring her magical signature to break the shackle.

Malfoy shifted uneasily when the hair on his arms stood on end as the powerful magic was channeled around his wrist. It was Hermione's turn to exchange a look with Snape. She smirked. Unfortunately, it wasn't the resounding victory she'd hoped for. He'd smirked, too.

She fished around in her pocket and held up a blue vial, asking sweetly, "Are you gonna take it like a good boy, or am I going to have to stun you again?"

"Fine," he pouted. "Give it here." She handed him the vial of charmed blue milk she'd made earlier. To Malfoy's credit, he didn't give it away. He swallowed it down without a sign that it didn't taste like bubotuber pus.

Hermione returned to her book and a short time later, she'd finished it. She groped in her bag for another, this time skimming the table of contents and index before thumbing through the pages. As long as she was waiting for Snape to sleep, she would learn everything she could about the construction of magical sinks.

Much later, after her old Potions Professor was sleeping, Hermione cast a powerful sleeping charm on him. Malfoy sat up at once. With a flick of her wand he was free. She hissed urgently, "Quickly, get dressed. I need an extra pair of hands."

She pulled the purple velvet bag out and emptied the contents on the table. Draco was pulling his sweater over his head as he approached the table, "This is for the magic sink?"

Hermione nodded and propped open her book. "You ever made one?"

He was taken aback by her question, "No way. They're contraband."

"What's the matter Malfoy? Five years in Azkaban scare you?" Her eyes glittered in challenge.

"You wish, Granger." He looked over the instructions in the book. "Says here we take the copper box and insert the amethyst geode." They continued, taking turns reading and constructing the magic sink from dozens of components, potions and powders.

Around two in the morning, they sat at the table staring at a four inch copper cube etched in runes. A tiny light skittered and danced along the engravings. The hinged lid was open and the geode glowed a dull red.

"Now what?" Malfoy asked with a yawn.

"Now I take some Pepper Up and you get some sleep. I have a lot of casting to do and someone still has to keep an eye on him tomorrow." She hitched her thumb at Snape's sleeping form.

Malfoy climbed back into bed as Hermione scribbled calculations on a scrap of parchment with one hand and threw back a bottle of Pepper Up with the other. She went over and over her calculations meticulously and studied her results carefully. Too much power would make the magic sink unstable, too little and it wouldn't be effective. She double checked her equation and began casting _expulso _charms into the sink's magical core with as much force behind them as she could muster. The geode glowed an almost blinding red by the time she couldn't throw anything else at it.

After a mere fifteen minutes of casting, she was exhausted. It was an effort to lift her wand to cast the last stasis spell. She wasn't done with the spells the sink would store, and she scribbled down notes before tucking everything carefully in her beaded bag.

She changed into her pajamas and settled into her cot. With a flick of her wand, she ended the sleeping charm on Snape. His snoring lost it's rhythm. She slammed her eyes shut and pretended to sleep. She didn't relax until she heard his breathing even back out.

Only one spell was left and it was too important to leave undone. If Snape suspected she charmed him, her wand would be the first place he would look. She mumbled a powerful variation of the _deletrius _charm to erase the traces of her night's casting.

Unexpectedly, Malfoy's voice whispered to her in the darkness. "Granger?" He waited until he heard her mumbled reply before continuing, "My shackle?"

She shook her head, attempting to stave off sleep for a few more minutes and muster the little power she had left. "Right. How stupid of me." She crossed over to his bed and conjured the shackle, resetting the blood ward.

"You're not stupid," he said softly. "Don't say that." When she didn't reply he asked, "What's going to happen?"

She bit her lip as she considered how to answer him. Her mind made up, she bent over him and whispered, "I'm going to save the damsel in distress, kill the bad guys without lifting a finger and live to a ripe old age in the South of France." She paused for a beat as if deciding something, then asked with a brilliant smile in the reddish glow of the fire, "You in?"

He gave her a smile that made her knees weak in return. "Wild thestrals couldn't keep me away, Granger. Merlin help the dunderheads that stand in our way."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Ah, questions from my reviewers, ****_what is_****, ****_why does_****, ****_can we kill,_****_when will_****... If you've enjoyed the story thus far, I ask you to trust me, my lovelies. Let the story unfold like a butterfly from a chrysalis. I promise, every question will be answered in it's own good time. :) For now, please enjoy this super, extra, bonus chapter and see if it doesn't clear a few things up.  
**

**I LOVE MY LOVELY, LOVELY REVIEWERS! (I could love you, too, if you review!)**

**This one is a bit short, but it ****_has_**** to stop where it does. You'll understand why. Then I'll get hate reviews. :(**

**-Elvee**

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Snatch

Chapter Thirteen

"The man who can keep a secret may be wise, but he is not half as wise as the man with no secrets to keep."

-E.W. Howe

When Hermione finally woke in the late morning, she found Malfoy shackled to the bed and Snape gone. Sitting up, she yawned and rubbed her eyes, before asking, "Where is he?"

Malfoy shrugged, "I dunno. He was gone when I woke up."

She frowned before getting dressed. Unshackling Malfoy, they shared breakfast. It was obvious he wanted to ask her something with every covert glance and every half-started word that trailed off into silence. Finally, he huffed out a breath, tired of biting his tongue. "Okay, Granger, out with it. When are we breaking into Gringott's?"

She snorted in laughter, then clapped a hand to her mouth, embarrassed. "Whatever gives you that idea?"

"And here I thought you were smart," he sneered, but the tone was remarkably different from the usual Malfoy insult; it was playful. "Let me ask it another way: Why did you link enough exploding charms in that magic sink to leave a crater the size of Hogwarts?"

She let the tip of her fork rest on her plate as she reached for another slice of buttered toast. She took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully before asking, "Malfoy, have you ever had pests in your home? Doxies or the like?"

He looked disgusted, almost turning green as he swallowed. "You're not serious? My mother would've given clothes to every house elf we own if she found even one Doxie egg."

She'd expected his answer. "Muggles sometimes get pests. Do you know what they do when the infestation is particularly bad?"

Malfoy rolled his hand in the air, a 'hurry up' gesture. "Granger, just answer the damn..."

"They _bomb_ the house." She picked up a piece of bacon and let her lips twist into a smirk, "I'm feeling particularly _pestered_ lately, aren't you?" She bit into the pork with satisfaction and waited. To his credit, it didn't take long. His eyes went wide in comprehension. _Yup, ferret, we're not playing_, she thought. If Snape refused to leave them alone after tomorrow, she'd planned ahead. Of course she had, she was the brightest witch of her age.

This morning it was Hermione's turn to take a gamble. She stepped outside the door and closed the blood wards on the tiny island. If Snape returned, he wouldn't be allowed anywhere near the little cabin until she reopened them. As an afterthought, she added a _confundus_ ward to temporarily confuse him and keep him from apperating away. It wouldn't do for him to go crying to Dumbledore if he was stuck on the little beach.

Once inside, she carefully extracted her partially constructed magic sink. She set the four inch square copper cube in the center of the table and glanced over her notes. Just like the night before, she drained almost all of her magic in fifteen minutes or less casting repeated exploding charms into it, charging the device. Sagging into a chair, the amethyst geode center glowed so brightly she could barely look at it. Consulting her book one last time, she winced as she cast the final incantation to lock her magic inside the magical bomb, hoping she wouldn't accidentally trigger it by mispronouncing the unfamiliar incantation.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she caught Malfoy peeking out from behind the foot of his bed, a frown on his face. Exasperated, he said, "Jeez, Granger! Warn me next time you have a death wish!"

She gave a dry laugh. "If you think that's the most dangerous thing we're going to do in the next two days, you sadly underestimate Professor Snape."

"If we try anything, Snape will eat our lunch! He's already plenty mad." At her questioning look, he continued reluctantly, "I have to go back, Granger. I have to protect my mother. I know he's a liar, but he can get to her. I can't afford to piss him off."

"No." She said firmly as she cleared off the table without meeting his eye. With more care than was strictly necessary, she packed the evidence of their project in her beaded bag. "Sorry, Malfoy. That's not part of the plan."

"To hell with your plan! My father is _beating_ her!" He hollered, in a rare display of lost temper.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Going back isn't an option."

He slammed both palms onto the table next to her, making her jump. "Why the hell not? I thought we had a deal!" He raged.

"We do. I'll tell you tomorrow." She put a hand tentatively on his shoulder.

Malfoy roughly shrugged it off, his temper slow to cool once given it's full head. "Not bloody good enough, Granger!"

"Draco!" Yelling his first name stunned him into silence. She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath and calmly continued, "I haven't forgotten about your mother. Tomorrow. You just have to trust me." With that, she stepped outside to reverse the wards.

Malfoy slammed the door open, dogging her footsteps. "She's my _mother_, Granger! I thought _you_, of all people, would understand!"

Hermione whirled around and pointed her wand at his throat, "Believe it or not, Malfoy, I'm _not_ the bad guy here. _I_ haven't lied to you._ I_ haven't threatened your mother. Remember that when we have our little chat tomorrow."

She turned on her heel and left him standing there, a red mark of irritation on his throat where her magic had accidentally sparked angrily out of her wand. Walking away, she called over her shoulder, "Don't get too close to the wards, you'll get hurt."

Lunch found Malfoy sulking on his bed and Hermione watching him more than the knitting in her lap. She was trying to decide if he was so thick that she needed to spell it out, or if he was playing stupid. He had to know he would never escape again if he went back to Malfoy Manor. If his father didn't kill him for protecting his mother from his rages or allowing himself to get captured or any other pitiful excuse the man could think of, Voldemort surely would.

She had never wanted to make an enemy out of Snape, but that decision had been taken from her the night she disagreed with his plans to make Malfoy a sacrificial lamb. She knew what she wanted to say tomorrow, but would blackballing herself from the entire Order really be the best course of action? Harry and Ron would be furious with her.

Not that they were exactly in the Hermione Granger fan club at the moment, anyway.

Her depressing thoughts sat like a weight on her chest and she sighed. Malfoy flicked his eyes to her, scowled, then turned away, staring at the wall. _And as if that wasn't enough to worry about, there's always Mary Sunshine over there_, she thought bitterly.

From behind the sheet, Krum groaned. Hermione stood and giving Malfoy one last glance, ducked behind the sheet. Krum's color had returned under Snape's care. The boy that had taken her to the Tri-Wizard Ball was now a man. His face sported a bristly beard from not shaving for a few days and his hair was matted to his head over his single eyebrow. She was relieved to see his improvement, he was definitely on the mend.

His eyes flickered, then opened. Quickly, she cast a _muffliato_ charm, and just managed to get it up before his face relaxed into a smile and he rasped, "Her-mee-o-niny!"

She placed a cool hand over his forehead and shushed him. "How are you feeling?"

He struggled to clear his throat, then said, "Better. Where am I?"

She wrung a flannel out in the basin and wiped his face and hands, pasting on a fake smile. "Don't worry, you're safe."

He saw right through her act. The questions were there in his eyes. He settled for asking, "Why are you here?"

She evaded this question, as easily as the last, saying only, "Snape brought you to me. Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?"

He nodded. "And thirsty. Where is he?"

"He'll be back soon." She called Dobby and requested broth, water and weak tea. She gestured to the black mark on his left forearm and said neutrally, "That's new."

Self-consciously, his right hand covered his Dark Mark and his eyes slid away from her face in shame. "I couldn't tell you. I wanted to, but Snape made me swear."

"I know," she said gently. "It's alright."

He turned back to her hesitantly, with an uncertain smile on his lips. She patted his arm, trying to comfort him. His smile grew brighter. "I was yours long before I was his, Her-mee-o-niny."

Uncomfortable, she put a wobbly grin on her face and handed him a glass of water without a reply.

He took a few short sips, his swallowing getting easier with each one. He handed her back the glass with another smile. "I've missed you."

She groaned inwardly. They'd agreed to be friends. _Friends_, dammit. "Thank you for your letters," she said tightly.

"I liked yours, as well." He darted his eyes to her lips and involuntarily licked his own. He gave a shy blushing smile, "This is better. I can't kiss you in a letter."

She lowered the bowl of broth into her lap with a sigh, "Viktor... Please, don't."

His face fell and he whispered, "I did this for you. To make you proud. Please..."

Her heart wrenched. "I already _was_ proud of you. Please don't..."

He desperately clutched at her hand, "I took this disgusting Mark for you, so I could spy for you, to keep you safe. You can't imagine what disgusting things the Dark Lord asks me to do. But I do it. I do it all, so I can help you. Please, Her-mee-o-niny..."

The guilt assaulted her until she could only manage to whisper a reply, "Viktor. Don't. We're friends. You know that."

"I don't want that! I've never wanted that!" He argued.

She battled through the guilt-induced numbness suffocating her to choke out, "But we agreed..."

"No! _You _agreed. I want more, I've always wanted more. I waited for you." He'd been eighteen when she was only fifteen. Merlin knew the number of groupies that threw themselves at him in the last three years. Three years that for him had been filled with nothing but letters and an empty hope.

She felt like her heart had been cut out completely out of her chest. The pain of it took her breath. "Don't do this, Viktor. Please," she begged him. At last he relented, but a light went out of his eyes. When she lifted the spoon of broth to his mouth, he accepted it mechanically while stubbornly refusing to look at her. After he was fed, she wheeled the cart over to his bedside and placed the water and tea on it.

She pulled his blankets up to his chest, and still he wouldn't meet her eye. Apologetically, she said, "If you need anything," but she trailed off. There wasn't anything left to say. She gave him a mild sedative and let him drift back to sleep.

When she parted the curtain she found Malfoy pacing the floor, his brow dropped in an angry vee. As soon as he saw her, he spun to face her and growled, "Who is he?"

"He's hurt, Malfoy, keep it down." _He's a heartsick man_, she thought. A man who took the Dark Mark for _her_. Gods, she was going to be sick, and it was all her fault.

He crossed the floor in two long strides and grabbed her by the elbow, "Dammit, Granger! Who is it? Weasley? That Death Eater you're fucking? Tell me!"

His grip was hurting her. She yanked at her elbow, but his fingers tightened painfully. "Let me go!" She reached for wand.

"I've done everything you wanted, everything you've asked." He shook her roughly, his eyes flashing. "Now you tell me. Who. The. Fuck. Is. He?" His growl escalated into a yell, even as anger flushed his face.

She pressed the tip of her wand under his chin. "Let go." With a sneer of disgust, he shoved her away. She pointed with her left hand to the table, her wand still trained on him. "Sit."

He turned his back to her, sneering, "Forget it, Granger."

"I said sit!" She shrieked and he dropped reluctantly onto a chair, refusing to look at her. "What the hell is wrong with you?" She snapped, bending over the table across from him to get in his face.

"I said forget it," he said between gritted teeth, his face still flushed with anger.

"I thought you didn't hurt women," she provoked. "I guess I know you better than you know yourself."With an angry flick of her wand he was naked again.

"What's the matter, Granger?" He leered at her. "Can't he satisfy you? Need to see a real man, so you can get yourself off later?" He let his eyes roam openly over her body. She'd never felt so cheap and dirty in her life.

"Fuck you!" She petrified him and levitated him to the bed. "You know what? I should let you go back to the Manor with Snape! What the hell do I care if they kill you and your mother?" She was shackling him back to the bed in jerky, furious movements as she ranted. "Why the bloody hell did I get involved? I don't need this, Malfoy! I don't need you!"

Once he was shackled, she flicked her wand, allowing Malfoy to relax out of the petrification charm. She stomped back to her chair by the fire and picked up her knitting with a huff, turning her back to him. After a moment, she threw her knitting back down, removing her robe, exposing the large blossoming bruise around her left elbow. She shot a glare over her shoulder and picked her knitting back up with disgust.

Some time later Malfoy called from the corner, "Granger?" She stiffened, but ignored him. After what she thought might be a curse muttered under his breath, he tried again. "Granger?" She threw her knitting to the floor and spun in her chair. Scowling, she leveled her wand at him, not deigning to reply. He blew out a frustrated breath, "Granger, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach! Don't you _dare_ talk to me," she hissed.

"Just... Granger..." Her fury seemed to rob him of his ability to speak. "I don't want... Gods!" He rolled his eyes at his own speechlessness and rushed to add more, his voice getting quieter as he went. "I don't want him touching you. I... don't want anyone touching you. I...I like you, okay?"

Disbelief coursed through her veins, the nerve of him! "I'm a dirty, filthy _mudblood_, Malfoy," she sneered. "The crud stuck to the bottom of your shoe is worth more than me, remember?"

"Gr- Hermione, please." He held up his shackled hands, showing open palms in supplication. "Come here."

She drew in a deep breath struggling for patience, then stood. "I swear to Merlin, if you hurt me again, Malfoy, I will make you wish you were never born."

"My word. I won't. Please," he begged. A Malfoy? Begging? Begging a _mudblood_? It was such a shocking revelation, it stunned her clear off her guard.

She crossed the room to stand over his bed, her wand leveled suspiciously at his chest. "What?" She snapped. She'd barely gotten the word out before she saw a tear track down his face.

"I'm so, so sorry, Hermione. I lost control. When I think about you with..." He drew in a shaky breath and closed his eyes as another tear fell. When he opened them again, they darted to her bruised elbow and he cringed. "Please... I don't want to be my father," he said, clearly in anguish.

She closed her eyes and took another deep breath, then pocketed her wand and sat on the edge of the bed. "Gods, Draco! You idiot!" Seeing him so vulnerable, her anger finally evaporated. She wrapped her arm awkwardly around his neck and pressed her forehead to his before whispering, "Don't you _ever_ think that. You are a far better man than he will ever be." She closed her eyes, trying to will some of her strength into him.

He struggled to even out his breathing and get himself under control. Her eyes opened and she watched him draw long breaths through his nose. His eyes remained closed until his breathing slowed. When he finally did open them, he looked deep into hers for a long moment.

Then with a sudden, small forward effort the Ferret kissed her.

This was nothing like the kiss he'd given her as Pansy. It was tender and desperate, asking forgiveness and giving comfort all at once. It was disarmingly honest and without thinking or hesitation, she kissed him back. When her stunned lips began to move under his, he made a soft needy noise and strained against his shackles to wrap himself around her. She threaded her fingers in his tousled hair, opening her lips, tasting him, moving with him. Her lungs burned for air, and hungrily she sucked in a breath and dove back into him. No matter what he'd ever said, what he'd ever done; he was revealed to her through this kiss. It was like he reached out to her with his soul, and the resulting sparks were chasing through her very veins.

They flew apart at the opening of the door.

"Well, well. Isn't this _touching_?" Snape sneered.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Do not underestimate Viktor, my lovelies, there is more going on than meets the eye. Draco knows. This chapter is a bit short, but I didn't want to overload you with information. ******Read this chapter carefully. There is a ton of information about motives and the plot here.****** I took about twelve hours on this chapter (about double normal) because I wanted everything I did explain to be crystal clear. I hope I achieved that.**

**I wanted to take a moment to give a heartfelt thank all of my reviewers. Your little notes have been touching my heart and making me smile. I most humbly and sincerely thank you. (and beg for more) :)**

**-Elvee**

(P.S.- edited for typos, they drive me batty.)

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Snatch

Chapter Fourteen

"I used to be Snow White, but I drifted."

-Mae West

Eyes wide, Hermione snatched the afghan from the foot of Malfoy's bed and threw it over him to protect his nudity. Her face flooded with heat. Hermione's mind was in guilt-fueled overdrive. The mortification of being caught snogging by her former Potions Master was nothing compared to the startling realization she'd just made. Inwardly, she cursed herself, this was twice in the same day she'd been reminded what a bleeding heart Griffindor she really was. More importantly, she'd been reminded it had very real, very serious consequences when dealing with Slytherins.

Hermione had made adjustments to her plan to save Malfoy and his mother. She hadn't even changed her plan for Dumbledore or the Order. That thought begged the answer to the question why? She knew the answer. The brightest witch of her age was a silly, sentimental girl, that's why. She'd let the ferret get to her. In her guilt she flicked her eyes to Malfoy.

Malfoy had relaxed back into his pillows, and unlike her, he wasn't afraid to meet Snape's eye. Despite the tear tracks, his impassive mask had slid back into place. He'd neither fidgeted with nor adjusted the blanket she'd thrown over him. His lips were pink and slightly swollen. There was a slight flush to his cheeks. He chose that moment to suck the last of her saliva from his bottom lip. He looked completely and utterly guilty and singularly unrepentant.

It was devastatingly sexy.

For his part, Snape slapped a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ on the table and stared between them stony faced. In response to their silence, he picked up one of the coffee cups off the table and sniffed it, looking for traces of love potion or some other mind altering substance, Hermione guessed. Apparently finding nothing, he repeated the action with the other.

She decided to take a leaf from Malfoy's book and act like nothing happened. Ignoring her old professor, she sat down at the table and opened his newspaper. She tried to convince herself it wasn't to hide behind the pages, but she knew better. She had to get a handle on her composure. After all, it wasn't like anything had happened. So they snogged? So what? Snape had probably snogged a thousand women in his life.

She peeked over the edge of the paper at his long, lank hair, his hooked nose and yellow, crooked teeth. Her nose wrinkled.

Or not.

Well, what was the worst he could do? He could tell Malfoy she was black mailing his parents, but he already knew that. Of course, it was an unconventional piece of blackmail. She wasn't exactly asking them for a cauldron full of galleons in exchange for his life. She soliciting murder by threatening the blood status and honor of every Malfoy progeny from this point forward. Malfoy wouldn't care about the murders, but he'd definitely have an issue with ruining his family's blood status. The best leverage Snape had was telling him about the terms of his release.

Was that really so terrible?

It wasn't like she had feelings for him. He'd lashed out and regretted it. He'd been vulnerable and she'd comforted him. That's it. It was a display of normal human empathy, that's all. Okay, so he was good looking. So what? Lots of wizards were good looking. And perhaps, if she thought about it, she was lonely. She wouldn't deny that. And perhaps she was a little vulnerable herself after the argument with Viktor. He was there, he was attractive and he was showing interest. Being naked didn't hurt, either. In the end, she and Malfoy had used each other to feel better. That's all there was to it.

Let Snape tell him. It wasn't like she cared what Malfoy thought of her. He wasn't her friend, they had already made that clear. Friends didn't keep friends naked and strapped to a bed. He may have said he liked her, but she knew better. Muggle psychologists even had a name for it: Stockholm Syndrome. Malfoy had all the classic signs: empathy, sympathy, and positive feelings for his captor. He'd get over it.

Once Lucius had finished dancing on her string, she'd be rid of Malfoy once and for all. It was best for both for them. Malfoy's feelings would gradually return to anger, and he'd go on to live the rest of his days cheerfully hating her, and she'd go back to hating him. All would be right with the world.

She realized she couldn't remember turning a page in longer than was normal. Just as she was about to, a small article caught her eye: _Magical Accident at the Ministry: Two Dead._

That was what she'd been waiting for. She skimmed the article and found the names she was searching for: Yaxley and Donovan. Despite the dramatic events at the cabin, her plan had been ticking right along. _Now that was good planning,_ she congratulated herself. It really didn't matter what Snape thought, all she needed to do was keep him from taking Malfoy from her until tomorrow.

"And how is Mr. Krum?" Snape asked, a glitter of malice in his eyes.

Of course, there was nothing saying he would fight fair.

Snape's mouth twisted into a mockery of a smile. It was his best 'I have you right where I want you' smile; the same one he had given them in the Shrieking Shack when he thought he'd caught Sirius Black. This time he aimed that smile at her, and the explosive gauntlet was thrown.

"Krum? Viktor Krum is here?" Malfoy shouted. His smooth features and composed manner contorted with rage. He struggled frantically against his shackles.

"Yes, Malfoy, calm down," she said, not taking her eyes from Snape. He knew something. Judging from Malfoy's reaction, it wasn't good.

"Dammit, Granger! Let me go! He's a Death Eater that..." Malfoy was howling now, she'd thought she'd seen him angry before, but that was nothing compared to the apoplectic blonde before her. The iron bed frame was groaning and rocking, trying to restrain him.

She couldn't afford to keep her attention glued to Snape any longer. If she didn't do something Malfoy was going to hurt himself trying to get free. She gave Snape one last glare, then stepped closer to the bed, saying firmly, "Malfoy!" When he didn't respond, she yelled, "Draco!" He finally slowed his struggles and looked up at her, his chest heaving with his fury. "Calm down. Viktor's and I aren't..."

Snape's dry laugh sounded from behind her, and he purred, "Is _that_ what you think, Miss Granger? Draco is worried about a little love triangle?"

Malfoy's eyes were wide, his skin flushed with anger. He stopped struggling long enough to look up at her and say, "Granger! For Merlin's sake, give me your wand!"

Hermione looked between them, Malfoy, desperate and despairing; Snape composed and challenging her with a smirk. She struggled for some kind of understanding.

"Still in the dark, then? Tell me, Miss Granger, do you understand the sacrifices the Order makes?" Snape said in his best lecturing tone.

"He took the Mark," she said in a numb whisper, but her gut instinct told her there was more to it than that. Malfoy had the Mark, what would he care if Viktor had it, too?

"Your ignorance demonstrates you have no idea what bearing this Mark entails." Snape flicked a piece of lint off his coat. Did she really know what Death Eaters did? The only solid information she'd gotten was from Malfoy himself. Rape, torture and murder seemed to be par for the course.

Her eyes roamed the room, touching everything and seeing nothing. Her brain was making and discarding connections between facts. She free associated, letting one word draw her to the next digging for something, anything. Krum. Order. Sacrifice. Snape. Death Eaters. Lucius. Took his turn.

It wasn't possible. She nailed Snape with a gape of disbelief. The corner of his mouth curled up in smug victory. "Oh. Very good, Miss Granger. Ten points to Griffindor. Care to share it with the class?"

She whirled on Malfoy and whispered in disbelief, "No, Draco. He wouldn't... He didn't..."

"No?" He barked a bitter laugh."Your big, brave Order boyfriend took his turn raping my mother that night." He growled with a feral smile. "I was there," he hissed. "The Dark Lord made me watch them. _All_ of them."

Something Viktor had said earlier whispered through her mind like poison, '_You can't imagine what disgusting things the Dark Lord asks me to do. But I do it. I do it all, so I can help you._' She shook her head, slowly at first, then faster as her denial built. "No, there's got to be some kind of misunderstanding. Viktor would never..." With a flick of her wand the curtain hiding Viktor vanished. He was sitting up in bed. His expression told her he'd heard every word. "Tell them, Viktor!" She yelled, "Tell them it's all a mistake."

His turned back to drop his gaze in his lap. He said nothing for a long moment, his mouth forming and discarding words silently. Finally, he shook his head mutely, an admission of guilt.

"What?!" She screamed. "You _raped_ Narcissa Malfoy?"

He brought his gaze up to meet hers. His eyes were hollowed out with pain and sadness. "For you. I did it for you."

"You son of a pestilent flobberworm! I will kill you for touching her!" Spittle flew from Malfoy's mouth as he screamed and thrashed, trying to exact revenge on the man who had raped his mother, on the man who dared insult the honor of the Malfoys. When Viktor didn't respond, he turned back to Hermione, "Give me your wand, Granger. Hell, just let me up, I'll kill him with my bare hands." Malfoy growled, barely keeping his anger in check.

"How could you? Viktor!" The questions that fell out of her mouth were the same shocked questions everyone asked, but she knew the answers. She didn't want to, but she did. He'd raped Narcissa Malfoy to keep his cover as a Death Eater. He'd become a Death Eater to help the Order. He'd helped the Order to protect her. The guilt was like a wrecking ball to the stomach. She felt like she was going to vomit.

He'd admitted to raping a woman. What else had he done in her name that he _wasn't_ confessing? Even if he wasn't a 'real' Death Eater, he sure as hell acted like one; he didn't get the wounds he was currently healing from by falling down the steps. The Ministry Manual of Coded Punishment decreed all Death Eaters were to be kissed in Azkaban. To live a soulless life was far, far worse than death.

With the mitigating circumstances, what Malfoy was asking for suddenly didn't seem as barbaric.

She turned away from the smirking Snape, from the furious Malfoy, from the guilty Krum and stared at a blank wall for a full minute, motionless, her fingers stroking her wand. At last she knew what it meant to feel as though a murder was justified, and it took the breath from her. She closed her eyes and summoned Dobby.

Once he cracked into existence she bent over grasping his shoulders lightly and whispered in his ear, "It's time. Don't speak, just nod if you understand. Do you remember the alternate plan?" He nodded, his eyes wide and worried. "Begin the preparations." He hesitated, unsure. She held his eyes until he nodded again. "Good. Thank you. You're dismissed." He cracked out of existence.

She turned back around to the room of men watching her. Breaking the silence, Malfoy yelled, "Granger!"

She blinked, then gave a curt nod. "You're right."

Viktor's head jerked up, his expression revealing a broken man. Snape's hand froze from picking the lint off his coat. Malfoy gave a slow smile. When she didn't make a move, he became impatient, hissing, "Then give me your goddamn wand and let me do it!"

"No." She shook her head.

"Granger!" Malfoy growled dangerously.

"Malfoy, do you remember what I said earlier? I am not the bad guy here." It was his cue to pay attention. Malfoy didn't know it, but with her next sentence she ensured Snape could never get him close to the dark side again. "Viktor is in the Order of the Pheonix, isn't he, Severus?" The dark, bitter spy let his eyes narrow at her, but said nothing. "For that matter," she continued smoothly, "So are you."

Malfoy jerked his head to his godfather. For the first time, Snape's careful composure slipped and he looked nervous. His fingers twitched for his wand.

He watched her as he slid his hand to his wand. She gave him a slight shake of the head and brought her wand up, training it on him. "Now, now. We're all friends here. Malfoy, despite the fact that I am not a member of the Order, they support Harry, so I support them... mostly. I don't support Snape taking you back to the Manor for Voldemort to torture. So I just told you his biggest secret. He can't afford to take you any where near a Death Eater ever again. If they ever found out, he'd beg for death by the time they were finished with him. Your godfather works for Dumbledore."

Malfoy was glaring at Snape, his godfather gave him a dismissive glance, then shot a look of unadulterated loathing at her. "You foolish girl! Do you know what you've done?"

Malfoy surprised her by jumping to her defense. "She's not a fool, Severus. She just outed you as a spy and a lying, scheming git."

Snape ignored him and continued to level his anger at Hermione, "You can never come back to the Order."

"I was never welcome in the first place, you lot seem to forget that. I've given them Greyback, Nott, Yaxley and Donovan. I asked for _one_ thing, Severus. One thing! Him!" She pointed at a stunned Malfoy. "But even after all I've done for you, you couldn't leave well enough alone. That was a mistake. I don't need the Order, Severus. I've already chosen a side. Mine. The Order members will take the crumbs I give them and be thankful." Hermione's hair was wild, her eyes flashing and her chest was heaving by the time she was finished. There was palpable uncontrolled magic in the room, the air crackled with it like static electricity.

Snape knew better than to push her with this much volatile magic on the loose. He dropped his challenge, but she knew it wasn't over. She'd fight that battle as it came. For now, she whirled on her former boyfriend, "Viktor, we used to be friends, but I don't even know who you are any more. The Viktor I knew would never have done something like that." She dipped a glance at his Mark, "But you're not that man any more, are you?"

In response, Viktor looked away in shame. "Even knowing what you did, I can't let Malfoy kill you today." Malfoy's head swiveled to her, a curse on his lips, but her next words silenced him again. "Your information is too important to the Order. But. No one rapes any woman and says it is in my name. If you survive this war, Viktor Krum, I promise you I am going to hunt you down and hand Draco my wand to do it."

Malfoy wasn't satisfied, but he settled down, his face falling into a grim line. "Thank you."

She pointed her wand back to Snape. "You vile man, you actually _enjoyed_ this didn't you?" Disgust raged through her. "You both have until morning to be gone."

"Tell me, Miss Granger, since this is an evening of _truth telling_,"Snape's voice was deceptively silky. "Shouldn't young Draco know about how you arranged for the murder of those Death Eaters?"

She'd been expecting the retaliation. She'd all but goaded him into it. She gave a lazy smirk. "Be my guest," she drawled. "Right after you explain why the Order wouldn't rescue his mother." Snape shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"You bastard! You said..." He quieted when she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Look at me, Draco. It doesn't matter. The Order doesn't matter. We don't need them." The blonde gave her a measuring look, then gave her a nod of assent. She gave him a conspiratorial smile. "And Snape is just jumping the hippogryph to tell you we're getting married."

"WHAT?"

Outside the cabin a murder of crows were startled from their trees into the sunset sky.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Hello, my lovelies! ****I won't be able to do daily updates for much longer, so get 'em while they're hot!**** Please excuse all typos and errors, remember every chapter I post is a first draft, so sometimes they get a bit hairy. Sorry about that. This was a tricky chapter. Any alliance forged between Draco and Hermione at this point is bound to be shaky. Trust is earned when risks are taken. Let's see what they're each willing to risk.**

**I love all of my great reviewers. I wanted to give a shout out to the lovelies that reviewed Chapter 14: pinkgiraffe17, HermionenDraco368, Krystal Alspaugh, arbitrary (guest), Speed Girl 87, TheWindChaser, betty69blue, Pyra Sanda, Kittykatsilvana, Angel Left Wing, AlisonHope2, Jen0318 and Guest (guest). Whew! You, lovelies, made me giggle with glee!**

**I love all my lovely, lovely reviewers! I could love you, too, if you review!**

**-Elvee**

**(Obligatory Disclaimer: Book copyrights are important. I'm an author, too, and I get it. Nothing but the plot and a few small devices, spells and potions are mine. No infringement is intended, nor ownership implied of copyrighted material. Any questions? Please ask your lawyer why it's called****_ Fan_**** Fiction.)**

* * *

Snatch

Chapter Fifteen

"I love being married. It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life."

-Rita Rudner

After giving a hard look at Snape and Viktor, Hermione threw a pile of clothes at Malfoy and pulled her beaded bag over her shoulder. "Get dressed. Meet me outside. We have to talk about your mother." She flicked her wand and the shackles vanished. Taking a few steps to the door, she turned back, "And Malfoy? Don't stoop to their level."

When the door snapped shut behind her, Malfoy was hopping into his pants, growling, "I'm not marrying a- Granger! Get back here!"

The evening was cool but clear, the cold weather finally retreated for the short Icelandic spring and summer. This far north the first stars looked like ground glass scattered across the sky. Her breath misted in the dewy air. She stood, hands in her pockets and waited. It wouldn't be long.

Malfoy slammed the door, tripping over small rocks and roots in his haste to reach her, mumbling. "I can't consummate a marriage to..." The orange memory of the sun left the sky and darkness fell like a shroud around them. "Granger! You don't just tell a wizard you're marrying him and run off. Granger!"

She chuckled, he sounded like a rampaging herd of wild hippogryphs. "Over here," she said softly. She stood on a rocky shore overlooking the black water.

He marched over, hands on his hips, "Look, Granger. You're a... well... you're okay for a mud... muggle-born. And thanks for saving me, I guess. But , er..." She smirked and watched the train wreck of nervous Malfoy before her. "And I mean," he continued, "If you help me release my mother, I'm sure we can forget all about the pile of galleons you owe me. We could call it payment for services..." he trailed off at her scowl. "I meant to say a gift." He huffed out a breath. "This isn't coming out right. You're a nice girl, you're pretty, you're a good kisser, Merlin knows you're intelligent. There's a million wizards out there that would be thrilled to have you. It's just that...I'm flattered and all, but I'm sorry, I can't marry you, Granger."

"Are you quite done?" Still chuckling, she put him out of his own misery. He gave a pained nod. She laughed out loud. "I already know all this, Malfoy."

He ran a hand through his tousled hair and blew out a breath. "You know? You let me go through all that, and you already know?"

"Well, it was nice to hear it, even if you don't mean a word of it." She chuckled.

"Granger, you're a real jerk, you know that?" An awkward silence settled between them. He dropped his eyes, then turned to the black bay water searching for the horizon. The wind ruffled his hair, his robes flapped and wrapped around his ankles.

She smiled at him then, a genuine smile he'd never see. "Malfoy, we hate each other. Why would I want to marry you?"

"You hate me?" He twitched his head back to the cabin, saying, "Back there you said you asked Dumbledore for me."

She nodded, rocking on her heels. "I did."

He put a palm to his forehead and closed his eyes. "Wait. I'm confused."

"Surprising as it was, Malfoy, you were actually reasonable when you thought I'd proposed to you. Now imagine someone asking your father the same question." A mixture of realization and fear dawned on his face. "Money doesn't help Harry, but a man inside does. I needed the threat of marrying you to motivate your father."

"A man to do what?" He asked suspiciously.

"What he does best." Hermione gave Malfoy's silhouette a long hard look. Beyond this there was no point of return. She could be tried and convicted for murder if he ever let this secret out. She blew out a long breath before answering him. "Lucius has been killing Inner Circle Death Eaters for me. In exchange, I agree not to marry you off to a filthy little mudblood." After a beat she said, "With good birthing hips. Namely, me," and smirked. "Provided your father does everything I ask, you're free to sell your ring finger to the highest pure-blooded bidder and have all the mini-ferrets you want."

He blinked, trying to take it all in. "O-kay. So, wait. You don't want to..." His finger gestured between them.

She burst out laughing. "Are you kidding? We'd kill each other!" Seeing Malfoy's sheepish grin, she bumped his shoulder with hers, "But if I ever need someone to let me down easy, I'll ask again. Thanks for that."

He gave a soft smile and slight shake of the head as he looked back out over the water. "You really had me worried, there, Granger."

She plucked a long piece of sea grass growing between the rocks to give her hands something to do. "We're not out of the woods, yet. Your father still has one more task."

"_Another_ murder?" He spluttered.

She tossed the shredded grass into the wind. "A big one. We're going to use the chaos to save your mum."

He turned back, his hands in the pockets of his robes, studying her. "Yeah? What if he fails, Granger?"

She sighed and shoved her hands back into her pockets to keep from stripping the entire plant. "That depends on the nature of his failure. If he fails, we won't have much of a choice but to go through with it."

"And if he dies?" He asked softly.

She shrugged, saying, "Then it won't really matter. Your mum will be safe and Lucius will be dead. No reason to go through with it."

"Granger, I... I'm sorry, what I said about your parents. I can't believe you're even considering saving my mother."

She followed the progress of an incoming fishing boat saying softly, "I wasn't planning on saving her at first. I didn't even consider it until you told me..." She trailed off. It was better it was left unsaid. "My parents were innocent, too," she said heavily, scuffing at the rick under her feet. "I know how that feels. I originally asked the Order to do it, but I know what they do with anyone that close to You-Know-Who. They torture them for information. Your mum is an innocent, I couldn't let that happen, even if her only son is a ferret." She finished with a weak smile.

A muscle in his jaw tightened, and he ground out, "She doesn't know anything!"

Hermione gave him a sad smile in the lights from the fishing village across the bay, her hair twisting in the wind. "She probably knows more than you realize, but that doesn't matter. She's been through enough. As much as I hate doing it, I had to make up a plan on the fly. If we're going to get her out of there, I'm going to need your help."

He nodded. "Anything."

She looked out over the water for a long time, listening to the waves break before she spoke again, "Draco, your father will probably be dead when this is over. Someone else might kill him, but I'll be responsible for it. He might be a psychopath, but he's still your father. If you don't want me to go through with it, tell me now. I'll try to think of another way to get her out."

"You'd stop if I asked you?" He was incredulous.

"Probably not, but you'd never be able to prove anything." She gave a guilty smirk and a shrug. "Been hanging out with too many Slytherins lately."

He picked up a flat rock and skipped it into the water off the jetty, then another, thinking. "Do it." He picked up a third, but hesitated, asking instead, "Do you know? Who killed your parents, I mean?" With that he whipped the rock into the ever moving black water. She watched it skip until it sank quickly to the depths.

"Yes," she whispered.

He pinned her with a calculating look, "What about them? Will they be dead by the time this is all over, too?"

"No," she whispered again, savagely wiping at a stray tear, gazing anywhere but at him.

"That's dragonshit! Who did it?" He hissed.

She picked up a rock of her own, studying it like it was the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen. "It doesn't matter. We have to worry about who we _can_ save, Draco. We have to worry about your mum."

He grabbed both her shoulders jerked them face-to-face. He brought their noses an inch apart, "Who, Hermione?" When she hesitated to answer, he shook her gently, demanding, "Tell me."

She met his eyes. They were cold and hard. "That Carrow bitch and Dolohov." He gave a firm nod to show he'd understood and kissed her on the forehead before he marched down the jetty back to the cabin. "Draco, where are you going?"

"You're not the only one with a man on the inside." He yanked the door open and disappeared into the yellow light.

Hermione ran to catch up to him. Once inside, she found him gripping the collar of Krum's robes and caught the tail end of a growling Malfoy, "...Electo and Dolohov. Do you understand? Do this and I'll consider out blood debt fulfilled."

Hermione paled as the blood drained from her face. "Draco, no!"

He twisted to glance at her, not letting go of Krum. "Leave it alone, Hermione. It's my debt. I'll use it any way I see fit." Turning back to Krum he said, "If that isn't enough incentive, you should know they're the pigs that killed Hermione's parents. Do this and live."

Viktor tore his eyes from Malfoy and looked hesitantly at Hermione. He tried to speak, then cleared his throat and spoke, "Is this true, Her-mee-o-niny? They killed your mama and papa?"

She dropped her eyes to the floor, refusing to look at him. Acting like a Death Eater on her behalf and without her consent was bad enough, but to ask him straight out to become a murderer? She couldn't do it. There was a primal part of her that wanted them to suffer for what they'd done to her parents. It was that part of her that mutely nodded her head.

"I will do this. Please think better of me, Hermee." Viktor said softly in his burred Hungarian accent.

"Wizard Oath," Draco growled. "Hermione give him your wand."

"No, Draco. Please." Her voice had evaporated to a ragged whisper.

Snape stood and offered his wand to Krum. Hermione's first love raised the wand and said the incantation typing the fate of his magic to revenge for Hermione's parents.

Malfoy roughly pushed him back down on the bed, his demeanor tight and grim. Hermione tried to stifle her sob and hide her tears with her hair, but Malfoy gathered her up and lowered her into a chair. She jumped at the sound of metal on metal and was astonished to realize Draco was making her tea.

Snape sat at the table, still and silent. If she hadn't seen him there when Draco sat her down, she doubted she would have paid him any attention. It was a very valuable skill for a spy: to go unnoticed in a room full of information. No doubt every shred of what just happened would be on Dumbledore's desk in the morning: Draco's offer, Krum's oath and the Malfoy heir's solicitous attitude toward one Hermione Granger. It wouldn't matter, by then everything would be set in motion.

After a cuppa, served rather awkwardly by Draco, Hermione unpacked her muggle electronics with a curt word to Snape, "No spells over magnitude two or everything will turn to shit."

Hermione accepted a refill from Draco with a smile and said softly, "I want you to talk to him tonight, Draco."

Snape's eyebrows lifted in surprise over his tea cup, but Draco shook his head, "I've got nothing to say to him."

She sipped her tea and swallowed slowly, deciding on her angle. Finally, she said, "He's not going to like the target. You're going to give him that little bit of incentive."

Draco paused in stirring his tea without looking up, saying, "So, who's the target?"

"Bellatrix LaStrange." She said it as evenly as she could. The deafening silence that followed made it seem like she'd rung a giant funeral bell.

Draco crumbled the biscuit in his hand and his eyes shot up to meet hers, clearly worried. He swore, "Merlin's holey underwear! You don't ask for much, do you?"

"Bellatrix is formidable. Not only is she a strong witch in her own right, she's also the most loyal of the Dark Lord's followers. Her death will not go unpunished. She will give Lucius pause." This was the first helpful thing Snape had said in days.

"Maybe. Maybe not. He's very efficient and he's quite desperate to keep Malfoy, er... unsullied." She gave him a half smile that Malfoy couldn't look at without turning away with a frown. "Either way, I win, Draco. If your father dies, I've already taken out Nott, so the majority of the Death Eater's finances will dry up. If Bellatrix dies, he loses his most trusted follower, and if the rumors are true, his paramour. At the end of this, there will still be one less lieutenant on the field. It might not be much, but it's something, and I'll take any advantage we can get." She shrugged.

"Nott." The wheels were turning in Draco's mind. "Who else did you say? Greyback. The werewolves. Yaxley..." Malfoy's fevered eyes leapt to hers. They had an excited gleam in them. His smile widened as he put the pieces together. "The Ministry. Aunt Bella. Merlin, Granger, you're ripping him apart from the inside." His smile faded, like the air going out of a balloon. He shook his head nervously, saying, "He's going to figure it out. He's going to come after you."

Hermione gave a hesitant nod. "Maybe. But, if you're father dies, my secret dies with him."

Draco was getting angry. Hermione didn't understand his reluctance. It was a good plan, but he challenged it anyway, sniping, "Yeah? What if he kills Aunt Bella? What then?"

"Then he comes after me," she shrugged with a sad smile. Draco made to protest, but she continued right over him, "The real trouble comes if they're both still alive after the first week."

Draco shuttered his expression and asked slowly, "No one dies. Then what happens, Granger? We send in the House Elf Marines?"

She sneered in reply, before answering his true question."Then we get married, I ruin your blood line and get the privilege of having your mini-ferrets. Like I said outside, we're not out of the woods yet."

Draco blanched, asking quietly, "Wait, Granger. I thought that was only a threat."

"A threat that you aren't willing to act on isn't a threat at all." Snape said smoothly. Hermione raised her eyebrows, for once agreeing with Snape, and nodded at Draco.

Panic was slowly leaking into his silver eyes as Draco looked between them. "But I'm not marrying you! I can't. You can't force me!"

She sighed sadly, "Don't make me say it, Malfoy. You know I can." Either of her threats was terrible, even to her. She could just hand him back over to Voldemort, or she could threaten him with the welfare of his mother. She had no intention of acting on either of them, she wasn't desperate enough to consider either one of them yet. Her first choice of action was a love potion. In the end, no one would get hurt, and he'd just hate her. As long as that was an option, she was going to cling to it.

"But! Hermione, you wouldn't do that!" She watched as Draco thrashed around for a reason, any reason to ruin her plan.

If she was honest with herself, she knew his panic disappointed her. She wasn't asking him to jump off a bridge or cast the killing curse on himself. She quirked up a brow, saying tartly, "I'll do what has to be done. Our two little lives aren't worth much in the grand scheme of things, Malfoy." She pulled out a copy of a magical marriage license, all the lines already filled in, only the date, place and his signature were blank. "Don't worry. I won't be insisting on consummating the marriage. I won't be any happier about it than you will."

"And what good is that going to do? If my father hasn't killed Aunt Bella in a week, marrying me won't make him kill her. If anything, he'll be out looking for you." Malfoy stood, both hands on the table, leaning over her.

"Yes and no. I doubt he'll get far before You-Know-Who discovers the new little addition to your family tree. When he does, I'm sure he'll be only happy to kill your father for allowing his only son to run off with a mudblood." She said, matter of fact and a touch smug.

Malfoy looked green. "I never... We didn't run away together."

She cocked an eyebrow long enough for the gesture to indicate, 'oh, really?' In a swotty tone, she said, "Think about it. We disappeared from Hogwarts at the same time and haven't been seen since. Aside from me, only two people know where we are. One of them is in this room. You-Know-Who fears the other. When my name appears on your magical family tree, whose version of events do you think You-Know-Who is more likely to believe? Lucius's or mine?"

She let Malfoy sit in silence for a minute before continuing, "If it makes you feel any better, I'm no happier about marrying you than you are about marrying me. That's why you need to talk to your father. You're the only one in this room who fully understands what's at stake. So, you're the one who gets to convince him. We're going to distract him with killing Bella and sneak your mother out right underneath his nose. He has to accept the bait, so we can rescue her."

"How are you going to do that? The place is crawling with Death Eaters!" Draco cried.

"I admit to being rather interested in that, myself," Snape admitted.

She wasn't about to give away the details of her secret mission to anyone until it was successful, not even Draco. "How isn't important. _We_ are not doing the rescuing. Draco, the real question is: do you trust me? You have until he calls to make up your mind. After that, I make no guarantees."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Okay, I knew it was going to take a while, but wow! Life has been really tough lately. I had two magazine articles due and had to do a rewrite on four chapters of my latest novel. (Rewrites stink, btw!) I wrote this chapter four times, it is too short and I'm still not happy with it. If I ever come back and rewrite, this one will get serious amounts of attention from me, but for now I'm going to let it stand so we can just move along.**

**Enough of this... more naked Draco! Okay, that's a lie... but it ****_is_**** time to turn up the heat on our Dramione. They've had too many plot related distractions and it is well past time they started seeing one another on an entirely new level.**

**ILYL! (I love you my lovelies!) Review? If I get enough, I'll post the next chapter tomorrow. (Oh, and to the guest reviewer who wondered why Snape would want to take Draco back into the fray, your answer is in this chapter.)**

**-Elvee**

Snatch

Chapter Sixteen

"We feel free when we escape- even if it be from the frying pan into the fire."

-Eric Hoffer

Hermione fished in her beaded bag, pulling out a a lumpy roll of fabric. With a few curt movements, she untied the straps holding the fabric roll together and gave it a push unfurling the contents down the length of table. The flattened fabric gave a muffled clink as it revealed row after row of identical glass vials, each individually labeled and neatly stowed in fabric pockets.

One row of labels read like a who's-who of the Order: Harry Potter, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Albus Dumbledore, Mathalda Hopkirk, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall and Sirius Black. The next row held a similarly impressive list from the Ministry of Magic, including Rufus Scrimgeour, Cornelius Fudge, Delores Umbridge, Percy Weasley, Griselda Marchbanks, Bartimeous Crouch, Wilkie Twycross and Ludo Bagman. The final row of labeled vials held names like: Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Bellatrix LaStrange, Frederick Nott, Electo Carrow, Peter Pettigrew, Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle. There were literally hundreds of them. Tiny vials, each containing a few hairs. Across the bottom row were twelve individual doses of polyjuice potion just waiting the last ingredient – a hair. Draco and Snape both gaped at the four foot long display of Hermione's anal retentive preparation.

Hermione pulled out the vial labeled Bellatrix LaStrange and with a pair of tweezers very carefully extracted a single hair from the vial. She pulled a dose of polyjuice from the bag and thumbed open the stopper, only then noticing the looks of utter disbelief from the two men at the table. The hair hovering over the potion, she rolled her eyes at her audience, "What?"

Snape snapped his mouth shut, but didn't deign to reply. Draco smirked and shook his head.

"Ninety percent of the outcome of any engagement rests on the preparedness of..." She rolled her eyes and dumbed it down, "Proper prior planning prevents piss poor performance, ya?"

Draco held up both hands in supplication. "Whatever you say, Granger." He watched as she mixed the potion together and it turned a pustule yellow. They pulled a face at each other over the vial. "I don't care how brilliant your plan is, Granger. If it involves me drinking _that_, you better come up with something else."

"No." She forced herself to swallow and choked out, "That's my job."

Malfoy gave her a bracing slap on the shoulder, "Better you than me, Granger." She gave him the hairy eyeball. "Er... I mean, I know it's a great plan because you wouldn't drink that for nothing." He cleared his throat and pulled his hand away while it was still in one piece. "So, ah... What do you need me to do?"

Two hours later the laptop signaled an incoming call. As usual, Hermione answered the call by typing into the text-to-speech program, "Yes?" As she finished typing, she tossed back the polyjuice essence of Bellatrix LaStrange. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth in an effort not to gag as she struggled to force it down.

"_It is done. Now where is my son?_" Lucius hissed from the other end of the phone line.

Her hands shook violently as she typed while undergoing the change into Bellatrix LaStrange, "You are so very close, Lucius. Just one more little favor and your bloodline will be safe and sound."

"_Enough! Where. Is. My. Son?_" Hermione now completely resembled Bellatrix LaStrange and she could see the oddity of that fact echoed in the look that Malfoy gave her. The plan was to try to avoid hurting him, but it looked like Lucius was done playing nice.

Hermione opened the microphone and cast a silent stinging jinx. It wouldn't incapacitate Malfoy, or leave a scar, but it did hurt like hell. As predicted he gave a whimpering scream and glowered at her. She pulled the plug on the microphone and typed frantically, "We think you're getting a bit full of yourself, Lucius. Perhaps we should let him give you your next target."

Malfoy scooted closer to the microphone and grit his teeth. He took a deep breath and gave a curt nod. Hermione simultaneously plugged the microphone back in and cast several stinging jinxes across Malfoy's shoulders. "Father," He whimpered. "Father, please, just do as they say. I need you to...AH!" Hermione had cast another jinx. "Father you need to kill Dolohov and Electo Carrow! AH! Stop! I'm telling him!"

"_Both of them? This is madness! I can't keep doing this. Someone is going to figure it out..._"

Hermione rubbed her fingers over the live microphone to simulate a struggle, but left it plugged in. Her next words, hissed in Bellatrix's accented drawl, sounded strained and distant, like they were across the room, "I told you he was weak! I told you this was the only way to regain favor for your family in the eyes of the Dark Lord! Your father is a stone around your neck!" Sloppily she unplugged the microphone, making as much noise as she could.

"_Draco! Was that Bellatrix?_" Lucius's voice was a deadly purr.

"AH!" Malfoy screamed and hopped around in his seat, glaring at her as she stung his knee. "What? No! Father! No! AH!"Hermione shot another jinx, this one higher up the thigh, to interrupt his rhythm. It had to sound real and terrifying and like a heck of a lot more than a stinging jinx. "Please, you must concentrate, you need to kill Electo and Antonin. Please, for me! AH!" Hermione slapped her hands together near the laptop, resulting in a very convincing loud smack.

In the background as Malfoy was begging his father to cooperate, Hermione let a string of drivel about Lucius Malfoy weave through his words as background noise. Lucius was unworthy. The Dark Lord was waiting for Draco to take over his true place as the head of the Malfoy clan. How Draco should be grateful to her for dragging his family's name back out of the mud, even though it meant nothing to her.

"_Bellatrix is behind this?_" He roared. "_I will rip her apart limb from limb..._"

"AH! Please father! She has a mudblood, she's given her a fertility potion. Please, for the love of our house... AH! No, Aunt Bella, please!" Malfoy was definitely getting sick of being hit by stinging jinxes and swatted at her to tell her so, but it was absolutely essential they kept up the rouse.

Meanwhile, Lucius was incoherent with rage on the other end of the line.

Hermione severed the microphone connection and typed in the text-to-speech box, "You have seven days." As soon as the program read it out loud over the phone line, she disconnected the call.

Hermione winced and counted the stings on Malfoy's skin. "Are you okay?"

"Merlin, Granger! I thought you weren't going to torture me for real!"

She smirked and began applying an ointment to his stings. Malfoy groaned in relief. "Quit being such a baby!"

Snape stood and made his way over to Viktor's sick bed. "As much as I'd like to stay and watch this revolting semblance of a courtship, I'm afraid Mr. Krum and I must be going."

Hermione stiffened. "No one leaves until we know for certain Narcissa Malfoy is safe."

"Miss Granger, you need to make up your mind." Snape whirled on her in a huff, "First you say we must be gone by morning, now you say we cannot leave."

"Patience, Master Snape, you and I will have the distinct joy of never having to see one another again very soon. Until then, we wait. We _all_ wait." A flicker of understanding passed between Hermione and her old professor. This was the moment of truth for Hermione to see if all of her best laid plans could withstand a direct assault by the Order and the Death Eaters. "We have very few secrets, you and I."

Malfoy looked between them, "What are you talking about Granger?"

It was easy to figure out Snape's motives. If he couldn't have Malfoy, he most certainly wanted his mother. Narcissa Malfoy was the person he'd made the Unbreakable Vow with, after all. After all of the posturing of the last few days, it wasn't hard to guess Snape didn't trust Hermione to keep him safe. It was also equally obvious he wasn't going to be able to take Malfoy without a fight, something she was sure Dumbledore would frown upon – at least at this point. If he couldn't protect Malfoy and honor the magical contract, he'd have to eliminate the contract. In the case of an Unbreakable Vow, that meant eliminating Narcissa Malfoy.

She'd anticipated as much. Malfoy's mother wasn't coming within a hundred kilometers of this cabin.

She pinned the potions master with a hard look, "It's his secret. Ask him." In reply, Snape glared at her. She went back to packing things into her beaded bag, moving on to the bookshelf.

Snape merely growled, "She doesn't know what she's talking about. If you can't keep up with the dance, Draco, sit down." Malfoy flushed, and turned away.

Hermione smirked and didn't even bother to look at him, "Liar."

"Enough!" Snape snapped.

Hermione sighed, "If you're going to be a bastard, Severus, why not own up to it?" She finished up the last of the packing and caught the venomous glare he shot back at her. "Tell him why I won't let you leave." No response. "Tell him why you want to take him back to the Manor." No response. "Tell him why you want his mother dead." That got a response. Malfoy drew in a hissed breath. "No interest in the truth?" She let her eyebrows raise and lower, in mock consideration, "Pity." She twitched her head at Malfoy, "He'll hate you before it's all over."

"Maybe he should." Snape spat back.

"Humanity at last?" She gave a barking laugh. "How very convenient!"

Malfot grasped her arm and spun her to face him. "Granger, what do you mean he wants my mother dead?"

"Simple, really. If you die, he dies. If she dies, you both live. Apparently, Master Snape is fond of two things: Unbreakable Vows and living." Malfoy tensed to launch himself across the table at his godfather. Hermione caught his shoulder. "Ease down. It's almost over."

…

The animosity sat in the room like an angry preacher, staring down any attempt to push it out the door until Dobby cracked into existence next to Hermione's chair. He was covered in blood, but still bowed low, "It is done, Mistress."

"She lives?" Hermione whispered, hoping against hope the blood on his jumper wasn't a harbinger for failure.

"Yes, Mistress, but she is not well."

"Fetch the healer and go. We'll follow when we can." Relief flooded her as she dismissed him. With a crack, the elf was gone. Malfoy was obviously confused, and Hermione hissed in his ear, "I couldn't take the risk of bringing her here. She's safe, Draco. I'll take you to her."

She placed the magic sink she and Malfoy had made earlier in the center of the table. Snape's eyes bulged. "I'm certain you know what this is. It's been charged with enough exploding hexes to blow this island off the map." She tapped it with her wand and it began to glow ominously. "You have three minutes to get Viktor to the edge of the wards."

Snape rushed to Viktor's bed and was struggling to help him stand. "Oh, and Snape, one last thing: you tell Dumbledore the Malfoys are now out of play. Any further threats to their safety and I take it personally."

Snape glared at her as he hefted Viktor over his shoulder. "You are a fool!"

Hermione checked her watch. "Two minutes and thirty seconds. I'd hurry if I were you." She put an arm around Malfoy's waist, pulling him roughly to her side.

He put his arms around her and looked down into her face. His face glowed with hope, "Thanks, Granger."

"It's not over yet, Malfoy. Now hold on." With that they twisted away.

They landed hard on an outcropping of rock overlooking the bay. The wind whipped at them. As soon as Hermione steadied her feet underneath her she pushed away from Malfoy, saying, "Strip."

"I thought we were going to my mother, Granger."

"Portkeys are being tracked, we have to get there the old fashioned way." She dug a set of muggle clothes out of her beaded bag for both of them. A fancy dress for her and a stylish suit for Malfoy. She pressed his clothes into his chest. "Put these on, we have to keep moving."

Too preoccupied changing, they both started as a tremendous explosion rocked the bay. Water launched itself hundreds of feet in the air and landed with a hiss. Hermione shoved her jeans and jacket into her beaded bag, and bent to stuff Malfoy's robes in as well. She draped a wrap over her indecently cut blue muggle dress.

Malfoy was wrestling with his tie. Hermione slapped his hands away and quickly tied it as he stuffed his arms into the jacket. She turned him around and gave him the once over. He looked pleasantly disheveled. Once he passed inspection, she pulled out a flask and took a good pull, gagging at the alcohol as she swished it around in her mouth, then swallowed.

She passed it to Malfoy and had him do the same. "Granger, what the..."

She held out her hands, palm up. "I need your magic, Malfoy." It wasn't like she didn't know what she was asking. Sharing magic was incredibly personal for witches and wizards. The bond it created was tantamount to mental sex.

He pulled his hands away and frowned, "What? Why?"

"We have a muggle hotel room waiting for us in Norway. It's on the edge of my apparition range, and with all the casting I did earlier today we might splinch. We can either share magic, or I can leave you here. Your choice." She shook her hands insistently. "Oh, com'on, Malfoy. It's not like you haven't shagged a million witches. If that didn't mean anything, why should this?"

She could see it went against his better judgment. "Fine." He slapped his hands into her palms and squeezed her fingers.

She could feel his magic winding up her arms, binding her ever closer to him. It was warm and soft, gentle and erotic. It called to her very essence like a siren. She couldn't see his magic, per se. She had no sense of where its edges lie, or how deep or wide it truly was. He was powerful beyond her wildest imaginings. As scary as that weould have been in any other circumstances, here it was comforting. It cocooned her in warmth and safety and a feeling of well being so strong, it was almost mesmerizing.

As she wondered at it, his magical essence wound up into her very core. Her golden magic met his silver and she lost herself in the joining. He was no longer separate from her, just as she was no longer separate from him. They were one being, one set of emotions, one yearning, one completion. It was the most intimate experience of her life, becoming one in magic with Draco bloody Malfoy. It took her breath as his magic filled her. Intimate hardly seemed adequate to describe it. Was this what it felt like to make love? To be so utterly full of another? To feel so indivisible, so unified, so... loved?

She broke the contact by snatching her hands away, gulping in the cool night air. "That..." She stuttered, refusing to make eye contact. "That should be enough."

He looked as startled as she felt. His own eyes were trying to read her in the dim moonlight. Even though she wasn't looking, she could feel him searching her face for something. "Granger, I..."

She roughly grabbed his waist and pulled him to her. "We don't have much time." With that she hugged him fiercely to her and turned on the spot.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Hello my lovelies! Yay! We hit 20,000 hits last night! Holy smoking pajamas! I was wondering if anyone would be willing to do cover art for this story? I can't even Photoshop a straight line. As a thank you to my artist, I will not only credit you here, but I would be willing to write a custom one-shot just for you. :)**

**These next few chapters were what I had in mind all along when I came up with the idea for this story. I'm going to have such fun writing these. I hope you have as much fun reading them. Can I have a review for Christmas? Happy Holidays, my Lovelies!**

**-Elvee**

* * *

Snatch

Chapter Seventeen

"Give a man a free hand and he'll run it all over you."

-Mae West

Draco and Hermione popped into existence in a side alley in Oslo, Norway. After apperating across the sea, her vision tunneled and she wobbled in Draco's arms. Instinctively he tightened his arms to keep her from falling and searched her face. "Hey," He said quietly. "You alright?"

She balled her fists in his shirt to steady herself. "Yeah. Just never took a passenger two thousand kilometers before." She gave a weak laugh and shivered violently.

"We have to get you out of the cold, Granger. Where's this hotel?" Her eyes were losing focus. It was becoming an effort to stay awake. Despite sharing their magic, she was dangerously tapped out. "Better yet, we need to get you to a healer."

"No!" She snapped. Her eyes were closed, but she fought for consciousness. "We can't be seen! Get the Pepper Up potion out of my bag."

He opened the little beaded bag and looked inside. It looked like the cargo hold of a ship. He dug around fruitlessly for a few minutes before he snatched her wand from numb fingers and summoned it. He pressed the potion to her lips and forced it down her throat. "Where's the hotel, Granger?"

"It's called the Thief. Go to the Thief. Papers and muggle money in my bag." The Pepper Up was warming her from the inside out, but she was so bone tired.

Draco put an arm under her shoulders and supported her as they stumbled to the curb. Fifteen minutes later they walked into the lobby of the Thief hotel. Hermione was struggling on the edges of consciousness and swayed dangerously as Malfoy checked them in under assumed names. The clerk behind the counter gave Hermione a sharp glare before she felt Malfoy kiss her temple and give her an affectionate squeeze, "My sister-in-law just had a baby. I think we went a bit overboard with the toasts."

At his explanation the clerk's look softened, "Congratulations, sir. You'll be on the top floor, suite 1415." She slid the key across the counter.

Malfoy pocketed the key and scooped Hermione up bridal style as she fought off another swoon. She threw her arms around his neck and snuggled in close, whispering, "You better keep your hands to yourself."

She felt him drop a kiss on her head and murmur, "Since when is it indecent for a husband to carry his wife, _Mrs. Matthews_?" He emphasized her new assumed name and even though she couldn't see his face, she could picture the smirk on his face as he caught the irony of them traveling together under the rouse of husband and wife.

It certainly wasn't lost on her. It wasn't like she had a choice, neither the Order nor the Death Eaters would be looking for a married couple. She was lightheaded and giddy. As the elevator doors closed, she gave a dry chuckle. "Careful what you wish for."

Malfoy carried her into the hotel suite and placed her gently on the bed. He slipped off her ridiculously high heels and pulled the blankets up over her. Safely behind closed doors, she let her eyes slide shut and let out an exhausted breath.

Shuffling steps on the carpet nearby told her Malfoy was hovering. "Granger, are you sure you should sleep, I mean, isn't it dangerous for you to be so low on magic?" It was actually. It was much like a muggle falling asleep with a head wound. She wasn't about to admit it, but sharing magic with him had shaken her. She had never expected to feel any of those things in relation to Draco bloody Malfoy, and she wasn't about to put herself in another compromising position.

A slow smile crawled across her lips. "You're just trying to share magic again, you pervert."

"No!" He insisted. "I mean it! When all your magic is gone, you can die, right?" He grabbed her hand, it was clammy and cold. She began shivering under the covers.

"Malfoy if you try to take advantage of me, I'll hex you so hard..." She tried to threaten him, she really did, but even to her own ears her words came out thin and thready.

His free hand smoothed the curls back from her face. "Merlin, Granger! Stop being so stubborn! You're shaking so hard your teeth are chattering!"

She jerked her hand out of his and slipped it under the blankets, turning away from him. "Don't."

"Look, I don't know what else to do if you won't let me take you to a healer." He was panicked. "What if I let you close your eyes and you never wake up? What then?"

She yawned. "You run, you hide and you don't look back." She snuggled further into the soft pillows, her words fading to a breathy whisper.

"Granger!" She heard him calling to her, but it sounded like his voice came from the end of a long tunnel.

"Wake up!" He yelled. She gasped and her eyes shot open. Malfoy's face was inches from hers. He held both of her hands in his as he growled, "Com'on, dammit! Fight!" His forehead tipped to meet hers, and as it did she felt the intimate embrace of his magic. "Granger!" His breath panted across her cheeks.

Malfoy was on her and over her and holding her, his magic was in her and surrounding her and cradling her. She moaned with the exquisite sensation of being joined with his magic again. In the back of her mind she knew there was a perfectly good reason she shouldn't be doing this. She didn't want to join their magic, she didn't want to ever get that close to him again. It was too tempting to fall over the edge and actually care about him. Malfoy was a means to an end, no more, no less.

"No!" She croaked. Struggling to break their handhold, she discovered she was weak, far too weak to fight him. He held her hands tighter. Gods, would he leave her no dignity?

In response Malfoy threaded his fingers in hers and held her hands over her head, pinning her down as his magic seeped into her, filling her to brimming with warmth and strength. He whispered desperately, "Granger! Don't you dare stop!"

Hermione shook her head weakly as she begged him, "Draco, please, please just... no. I don't want this. I don't want you to..."

His eyes creased in anguish, watching her struggle against him. Then, before she knew what was happening, he crushed his lips desperately to hers. The magic eagerly connected through this new contact and pulsed through her, forcing a ragged moan of ecstasy from her throat.

He took this as permission and deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding between her lips, sweeping her mouth, tangling with and tasting her own. Everywhere they touched, every point of skin-on-skin contact was on fire with need. Gods, she wanted to fight it, but that part of her brain was drowned by pure sensation.

She could feel him wanting her, wanting more of his magic to fill her, feeling her overwhelming pleasure, just as she could feel his. Instinctively she knew they were close, so close to something monumental, like knowing when her body was about to orgasm, but it was so much more. It wasn't sex. It wasn't making love. It was tangling magic, and it overwhelmed every logical neuron in her brain. It short circuited every bit of common sense in her sensible head to the point where all she could do was hold on for dear life and experience it.

If they didn't stop soon, they'd both wind up naked and intimate in the way that only a witch and wizard could bring completion to one another. And she wanted it. Merlin help her, all of her good intentions for saving herself for her husband seemed so inconsequential. Draco was here and he was filling her and touching her and it was like a drug, taking her higher and further out of touch with her sense of reason.

He moaned with pleasure and the sound of his voice snapped something back into place. Just like her virginity, she wanted to give her magic to the man she'd be with forever. Even Merlin knew that if she did wind up marrying Malfoy, it's be a cold day in hell before they consummated anything. He wouldn't be her happily-ever-after. He wouldn't be the father of her children or her forever. He'd be a pissed off pureblood that only tolerated her existence because killing her would mean killing himself shortly thereafter.

She broke her hands free and shoved at his chest. As he broke away, she turned her head, refusing to look at him and whispered, "Don't. Please."

His cheeks were flushed with desire, his eyes dilated with pleasure. Confused, and dazed with sensation, he searched her face. He sucked on his bottom lip and asked softly, "What do you mean 'don't'?"

"Congratulations." Her words grew steadier and more acidic as she continued, "You just guaranteed I'd live long enough to take you to your mum. Good job. Now get off me!"

He rolled off the bed and stood at the window, one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair. "You think that's what this was about?" She turned away from him. "Jesus, Granger! You're really thick, you know that?"

"You had no right!" She snapped, hitching the blanket up to her neck, covering the low cut neckline of her dress.

"_No right?_ You. Were. Dying." He ground out every word. "So... So what? I was supposed to stand by and watch? Maybe roll your body when it was over and walk out that door cursed with not one but _two_ unpaid life debts?" He ran his hand through his hair again, rougher this time, then let it fall to his thigh with a slap. "You're a piece of work, you know that?"

She scoffed, "Saving my life! Right! If that's all it was, Malfoy, then why didn't you let go when I woke up?" He mumbled something incoherent. "Why didn't you let go?" She spat again.

"Maybe I didn't want to!" He roared, whirling to face her.

She jumped out of bed, swaying with dizziness. She anchored herself on the nightstand until the room stopped moving, then grabbed her beaded bag and stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

She wanted to feel violated. She wanted to be disgusted. She wanted to, but she couldn't. Truth be told, she'd liked it and that had scared her more than anything she'd faced so far. She threw her beaded bag down on the vanity with a clatter and stared at herself in the mirror. Having feelings, any type of feelings for Draco Malfoy was completely and utterly out of the question.

She was not going to sacrifice the only thing she was likely to have left at the end of this: herself. She might be alone and trapped in a loveless marriage, but she was not going to give anyone the satisfaction of actually getting beneath her skin. Draco Malfoy was playing with her, plain and simple. She'd taken a Pepper Up potion, she would have been fine with a good night's sleep. Damn him! Why couldn't he just let her sleep?

Why couldn't she have pushed him off sooner? Why couldn't she remember he wasn't to be trusted? Why couldn't she keep her distance and get the job over with?Why couldn't he be the spoiled prat he'd always been? Why couldn't he call her mudblood and insult her? Why couldn't he be someone she could hate?

Why, why why?

_Seven days_, she reminded herself. Seven damn days until she could dump him with his mother and never see the bouncing blonde ferret again. She looked into the mirror, seeing the hurt and anger in her own eyes and knew that seven damn days was far too long. Despite her best efforts, he already had his hooks in her.

She took a brief aggravated bath, scrubbing too hard in water that was too hot. By the time she got out, Hermione's temper was festering right under the surface. She roughly dried herself, and yanked on her pajamas. It was four in the morning and now that her temper was starting to fold, the adrenaline that had kept her going was bleeding off. She was shaky, exhausted, confused and in a temper the likes of which only Draco Malfoy could ever inspire in her.

She took a deep breath and snatched the door to the bedroom open. Malfoy stood across the darkened room, staring out the window at the Oslo skyline. "I thought you'd be gone," she said, a little too matter of fact to be friendly.

He didn't look at her when he replied, "And why would I do that?"

"One could always hope." She picked up a pillow from the king sized bed and threw it at him. It hit him and bounced onto the floor at his feet. "You get the couch." She tucked her beaded bag under her own pillow and climbed into bed, her wand drawn.

He glared at her, snatching the pillow off the floor. "Get over yourself, Granger! It was just a little magic sharing. It didn't mean anything."

"Malfoy, you can fuck whoever you want!" _Liar_, her conscience said as she beat her pillow into submission. "You can share magic with whoever you want!" _Liar_, it piped up again as she ripped the covers over her. "I don't care what you do or who you do it with!" _As long as it's with me!_ "Just leave me alone!"

He stalked across the room and slapped the pillow on the end of the couch. "What the hell is your problem, Granger?" He poked his finger at her over the back of the couch for emphasis. "A little magic between us and you'd think we're engaged or something!"

She bolted upright in the bed and turned on the lights with an angry flick of her wand, "You don't get it, do you? Until your father is dead, we _are_ practically engaged! Excuse the hell out of me if your name is _not_ the first one that pops into my head when I think of sharing myself with someone else!"

He strode out from behind the couch, closing the distance to the bed, sneering, "Who makes your little heart flutter, then, Granger? You got his hair in that clever kit of yours? If that's what it takes to get some peace around here, then mix up the polyjuice and let's go! I am sick to death of dealing with your passive-aggressive, sexually repressed mudblood self."

"How dare you!" She hissed indignantly with narrowed eyes.

He crossed his arms and struck a pose of exaggerated thought, tapping his finger to his chin. "Krum? No, even _I_ don't think you have a thing for rapists. How about Weasel-bee? Is that it? You still pining away for that loser? Or no... Scarhead! You're more into the sniveling self-sacrificing hero..."

"One more word," she warned him, hissing dangerously, her wand lowered at his chest and trembling from the effort not to use it.

He strode up to the side of the bed, pushing his chest into the tip of her wand. He thumped his chest. "Why am I not good enough for you, Granger? What is it about me that you hate so much?"

With those words, her fury deflated like a balloon. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before saying slowly, "Go to bed, Malfoy."

But Malfoy had worked himself up quite a head of steam, and wasn't about to go to bed. He pressed harder against her wand, looming over her. "I'm good enough to redeem but not to fuck, is that it?"

"Don't do this!" She whispered.

"All those little truths you told me at the cabin, funny how none of them was about you." His eyes flashed. "We had my truths, Snape's truths even Krum's truths, but what about yours, Granger? I think it's time we hear some of your truths."

"Draco..." She tried putting some weight in her voice, trying to get him to slow down, to think about what he was saying, but it wasn't working. He was in a fury.

"Too good to go slumming with a Death Eater?" He ripped back his sleeve to expose the Dark Mark and gave a bitter laugh, saying, "You think I wanted this?" He shook his forearm in her face. "Do you?"

She dropped her wand into her lap and gently circled her hand around his left wrist. She watched him visibly calm as her fingers touched him. His chest heaving, he pinned her with a poignant questioning look. It was full of pain and anger and a flicker of hope.

She bent her head and pressed her lips to his Mark. "We can't."She whispered before looking up into his eyes. They went iridescent with pain as she continued, "I'm not a one night kind of girl and I won't let you risk anything else."


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Hi my lovelies! I wanted to reply to a guest reviewer, so if you were the person with a question about wandless and non-verbal magic, please read the note at the bottom. All hotels and modes of travel are real and were used without permission. Hopefully, their lawyers will see it as free advertisement. :)**

**My daughter made the cover art, so hooray for Kirin Fire! **

**As always, I love to hear from you, my lovelies! Reviews from you are what keep me going. Even now, when I am running a terrible fever and have some kind of cursed creeping crud, I am sitting at my desk working like a house elf in the hopes that you'll drop me a line. :)**

**-Elvee**

* * *

Snatch

Chapter Eighteen

"For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul."

-Judy Garland

Hermione awoke to housekeeping banging on the door. Malfoy was sitting on the couch with wet hair, his pillow and blanket neatly folded. After their exchange last night, he'd gone wordlessly to bed and refused any of further attempts to talk.

Without looking at her, he crossed to the door and exchanged a few soft words with the maid, pushing her back out into the hall. Hermione ducked into the bathroom and took the world's shortest shower. She was dressed and ready to leave, albeit a little wet and little disheveled, in fifteen minutes flat.

"Com'on," she said without looking at him. "We have a schedule to keep." She hitched her beaded bag over her shoulder and waited, her hand extended for him to grasp. He stopped and stared at it, his mouth falling into a grim line. "We're still the happy couple, _Mr. Matthews_."

He glared at her and took her hand petulantly. She led him down through the elevator, through the check out process and out into the street where she hailed a cab. All the while he smiled brilliantly, opened the doors for her and casually slung his arm around her shoulders, giving her the occasional very convincing affectionate squeeze. He was some actor, right down to the peck on her cheek at the front desk.

As soon as they slid into the cab, he dropped her hand and turned away, staring out the window as the buildings slid by. Twenty minutes later they were at the docks where Hermione paid the cab driver before dragging Malfoy by the elbow behind a dumpster. She dug in her bag and pulled out Viktor's wand.

"Here," She said, shoving it at him without ceremony. "Until I can pick you up another in Copenhagen, use this." He wrapped his fingers slowly around the unfamiliar wood and tried to meet her eyes.

He spoke directly to her for the first time this morning, "What's to stop me from jinxing you?"

She rolled her eyes and said, "You're not that big of an idiot, Draco. I'm the only one who knows where your mother is."

He shrugged, "I could put the _imperius_ curse on you and make you tell me."

"So do it," she challenged. "I'd bet every galleon in your Gringotts account the Death Eaters have a trace on Krum's wand. I gave it to you so you could defend yourself." He looked away, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "We're both being hunted, Draco. If I can't trust you, I'd rather know now." Purposefully, she turned her back to him, providing a perfect target and walked away.

He pocketed the wand and trotted to catch up to Hermione at the ticket booth. She purchased two tickets for the ferry to Copenhagen. "The planes and trains are probably being watched and I'm not strong enough to side along with you."

He sighed and ran a hand through is hair, something she was noticing he did when he was frustrated. "Give me your wand, then. I can take us both."

"Think, Draco," she hissed. "They probably have a trace on mine, too. They'd be on us in a matter of hours." She pulled a waist length black wool coat from her beaded bag and pushed it at him. "Put this on."

He slipped the jacket on as she pulled on a stylish hounds-tooth Mac and wrapped a red scarf around her neck. They boarded the ferry and Malfoy was surprised to see it was actually a boat of some size. It even had a muggle restaurant and bar.

They stood along the rail, watching as the harbor slid away, the wind playing through their hair. When the boats and docks started to thin, they went below to find breakfast. Hermione ordered them two coffees, toast and eggs, frowning in her purse. "Even if we didn't need wands, we'd have to risk a stop in Copenhagen to change out some more Galleons into Euros."

Malfoy sipped his coffee, "What's the plan from there?"

She pulled a travel guide out of her beaded bag and thumbed through it thoughtfully. "We need to take the train from Copenhagen to Berlin." Hermione buttered her toast and took a bite.

He frowned, "I thought you said the trains were being watched."

"They are, but I don't have a credit card to rent a car. We'll have to use a disguise." An uncomfortable silence settled between them as their silverware scraped their plates. Hermione finally took a deep breath and said, "Draco, about last night..."

He stiffened, his knife and fork freezing over his plate, saying. "I don't want to talk about it." He resumed eating, not looking at her.

She thumped her coffee cup back on the table a little harder than necessary. "Well I do." The waitress came by and refilled their cups.

When she left, Draco leaned across the table and hissed, "Just drop it." He wiped his mouth with a napkin, dropped it onto his plate and walked out.

Hermione through a few Euro coins on the table and ran after him. "No!" She caught up to him on the steps leading up to the deck and spun him around by his elbow. "Listen to me! Draco, I..." He jerked his elbow out of her grasp.

"Leave it, Granger." A few passengers pressed passed them, pushing Hermione into him and pinning them to the handrail.

"Dammit, Malfoy!" She yelled, then seeing the other passengers giving them funny looks she hissed, "Just listen to me!" She grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and towed him up the steps out onto the deck and shoved him up against a wall. He wouldn't look at her. She did the only thing she could think of. She reached up and kissed him. He didn't respond.

He groaned, but it wasn't a groan of passion or want, it was a sound of impatience. He pushed her away. "Don't." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You think I don't want this? You think I share," she stopped and looked around, and seeing muggles nearby, lowered her voice, "You think I share my magic with just anyone?" He finally met her eyes. "You were my first and it was..." She broke off and gave a sardonic chuckle, "It was amazing, okay?"

He tipped his forehead to hers with a little smirk, saying jauntily, "I was pretty amazing, wasn't I?"

She smacked him on the chest. "Draco, when all this started I never expected to... like you. I never expected you to like me. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. We hated each other!"

"Things change, Granger. People change," he shrugged.

She leaned in whispering desperately. "But...what if your father doesn't kill Bellatrix? What if we have to get married?"

"What if we do?" He tucked a curl behind her ear and cupped her cheek with his palm. "We'll deal with that when the time comes."

Tears welled in her eyes, as she said softly, "But your family... your bloodline..."

He frowned, saying, "Now you sound like my father."

"I'm going to ruin your life!" She sniffled.

He tipped her chin up with a finger. "Says who, Granger?" They were a breath apart now.

"But, we're not in love." She whispered.

"And we won't ever get a chance to be if you don't shut up and let me kiss you." He smothered her protests by covering her lips with his. Fingers twined in her hair. A hand pulled her waist into him. She moaned and wound her arms around him, pulling them closer still. Her eyes fluttered shut and for once in her life, Hermione Granger stopped thinking and surrendered to the sensation of being thoroughly kissed.

There was a tingling in her stomach, electricity chased along her skin everywhere he touched her. She tangled her fingers in his hair, grabbing a fistful and pressing them closer still. A hunger built between them and they gave in to it. Their tongues tangled and danced. The stubble from his chin scraped deliciously along her face. She clung to him with a desperate need she'd never allowed herself to show anyone before.

When it finally ended, they were both breathless and emotionally raw. He wound his arms around her and pulled her fiercely into him with a possessive growl. They stood there, clinging to one another as the wind whipped their hair. He planted a chaste kiss on the top of her head. A little old woman gave Hermione a knowing smile as she tottered past with a cane.

They stood there, lost in their own thoughts for a long time before she broke the silence. "Now what?" She asked.

He put his shin on the top of her head, tucking her under his chin. "You're the one with the plans, Granger. You tell me."

"I'm serious!" She squawked.

He chuckled. "Your really want to know?" She nodded into his chest. "We have sex. Lots and lots of hot sex." She laughed and hit him lightly in the chest.

Hours later the sky had turned gray and rainy. They retreated into the cabin and took seats watching the rain chase rivulets along the windows. Hermione leaned her head on Draco's shoulder and he put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him.

He broke the silence between them, saying quietly, "What about your friends?"

She twisted to look up into his eyes, "What about them?"

He gave a derisive laugh, "I hardly think Potter and Weasley will approve." He made a motion between them.

"The heart wants what it wants, or else it does not care." She shrugged as she quoted Emily Dickinson. "They won't make me choose, and even if they do, the heart wants what it wants." Draco raised an eyebrow in reply, but said nothing. "What about your mother?"She asked, biting her lip.

"She'll love you." He gave her a squeeze and a reassuring smile.

They had dinner aboard the ferry and disembarked in the late evening in Copenhagen harbor. The rain had blown itself out, but it was still damp and windy. Hermione hailed a cab and asked the driver to take them to the Copenhagen Admiral Hotel. They got out under the awning and went inside. Holding Draco's hand firmly, she went inside just long enough to see the cab slide smoothly off into the night before stepping back out into the street.

They walked four blocks away and checked into the Phoenix Copenhagen hotel using their Matthews passports. The room had two double beds. Hermione showered first and fell exhausted into the bed furthest from the bathroom. When she woke in the morning, Draco was wrapped around her, breathing softly into the back of her neck. The other bed was untouched.

She felt his arm around her waist and her fingers must have twined with his in her sleep. She stiffened.

"Don't," he said, his voice fuzzy with sleep.

"Draco, we shouldn't..." She tried to turn around to face him, but he pulled her into him more firmly, and snuggled into the back of her neck.

"Just relax. The world is not gonna end because we slept in the same bed." He grazed her neck with a kiss. He was right. She settled back into the pillows and let him pull the covers back over them. It felt nice to be so warm and wanted. She would have given anything to stay there in that anonymous hotel room in Copenhagen, snuggled into him and let the world and the war and anything else that would take him from her go on without them.

But she knew better. Despite his protests, by putting her heart on the line, she knew it would crush her when he finally walked away. How in the hell was she going to hang onto him through everything this damned war was going to throw at them? The real question was how she was going to keep him from despising her when it was all over. She had no idea, but she knew she had to try. She twisted in his arms and dropped a kiss on his forehead, sliding out of bed and heading for the shower.

Showered and dressed, they downed two doses of polyjuice potion, making them look like normal muggles. Leaving the keys in the room for expedited check out, they had take out breakfast of coffee and a roll at a small cafe down the road from the hotel and hailed another cab to the Round Tower. At a wizarding souvenir shop, they stepped through a long hallway and out the back door into Rund Gyde, Round Alley, the Danish equivalent of Diagon Alley.

The buildings were crowded and crooked in a way that only magical architecture could make possible. Wizards and witches bustled between shops, bags in hand. Vendors hawked all kinds of local rarities and delicacies. At first glance, it was a normal day. But Hermione noticed mothers were holding their childrens' hands tightly, smiles were forced and conversations between friends were hurried and whispered. The war, or at least the front edges of it, had reached Copenhagen.

Hastily they made their way to the wand shop and bought two new wands, saying they'd decided back up wands were a good idea if they were traveling. They weren't nearly as good as Olivander's wands, but at least they could be sure they weren't being tracked yet. The shop owner, a pruned willowy wizard squinted at them suspiciously, but took their money.

They stepped into the Copenhagen branch of Gringotts intending to change out currency. Draco, currently a portly middle aged man, leaned into his equally portly 'wife' and forced a smile as he whispered, "I think we're being followed."

Hermione had the presence of mind not to turn around immediately, instead she hustled the goblin through the transaction – something goblins were loathe to do – and let Draco put his arm around her and escort her into the street. She saw two wizards loitering by the door. "Just the two?" She asked quietly, once they were outside. She felt a tingling in her hand and looked down to find the skin bubbling. The polyjuice potion was wearing off. They'd taken too long.

"Fight or run, Granger?" He leaned over and whispered in her ear as he was steering them to a side alley. His brown hair was now streaked with white blonde.

"Run. We can't be seen." They ducked around the corner, hearing shouts behind them. "Can you get us to Berlin?"

They dove behind a dumpster just in time to hear a curse smash into it. Red and green jets of light were peppering the alley. Small explosions surrounded them, brick dust thickened the air. Draco pulled Hermione into him and twisted.

They landed hard on a cobblestone walk in a courtyard full of spring flowers. In the distance a fountain splashed merrily. "Where are we?" Hermione asked, steadying herself against him.

"One of our summer homes on the outskirts of Berlin. We can't stay. My father will be alerted to the break in the wards." He took her hands and towed her through the hedges.

She gaped, "Jesus, Malfoy!"

"What? You said get us to Berlin. We're in Berlin!" He quickened his steps and she had to trot to keep up with him.

"If there weren't Death Eaters on our tail before, there will be now," She said. Gods! Of all the places for him to bring her, a Malfoy summer home?

He took seemingly random lefts and rights through the tall yew hedges. "What? You think those other guys weren't?" He stopped and turned to look at her.

"You really think Snape was happy about me spilling all his secrets and refusing to hand you over to the Order?" She glared at him. "Com'on." She gave him a shove. "We've got to keep moving."

Draco pulled her deeper into the gardens. "This way." He turned another corner and stopped abruptly.

"Draco, why are we..." Bumping into him, she looked up. Lucius Malfoy stood between them and the only way out.

* * *

**A/N: On Wandless magic, non-verbal magic, magical potential and canon:**

**_Wandless magic:_**** In canon wandless magic was extremely rare. Only the most learned and powerful wizards could do any voluntary wandless magic. The most common form of wandless magic in canon was wild magic, where a child wizard was growing in to his magic or where a full grown wizard would lose his temper. I have chosen to make it extremely rare in my story, too.**

**_Non-Verbal Magic:_**** In canon, this too was considered a very advanced and rare form of spell casting. It wasn't even taught until sixth year, and even then in the books, everyone struggled with it. Snape was an extremely studied and powerful wizard and he taught the class. Even so, JKR didn't have him performing non-verbal magic with any frequency.**

**_Magical Potential:_**** A wizard can have a great reserve of power (like Draco in my story), which would enable him to have the ****_potential_**** to cast very powerful spells, but without the magical learning to refine and use his magic, it remains just potential. Think about it this way: Right now Draco has a Ferrari parked in his driveway but he can't drive a stick. Meanwhile, Dumbledore is cruising the superhighways of life in his Bugatti Super Sport (the fastest production car in the world). When sharing magic, Hermione can feel the vastness of his power, and thus his future potential as a mature wizard.**

**_In Conclusion:_**** Each of these concepts are completely independent of each other, but as a school-themed series, JKR made sure that our heroes were still learning and growing into their potential, making the use of wandless or non-verbal magic rare and the only people she spoke of in a powerful sense were the fully learned and developed wizards, like Dumbledore and Grindelwald. While the use of these concepts are very common in many Fan Fiction stories, in keeping with canon, they are not common in mine. I hope that clears a few things up.**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Sorry for the cliffie, my lovelies! Truly! I know you hate me right now, but I never meant to leave it there. I got the Creeping Christmas Death****. OMG! Talk about sick! My fevers were so high I was seeing things! Then the hubby got it. Then the daughter's bf got it. Then daughter number one got it. Let's just say, Christmas at the Elvee home had more used Kleenex and otc medicine than Christmas cheer. Bleh.**

**But here we are at last, my lovelies! So without further adieu... (I hope you leave a review...) I give you chapter nineteen.**

**Love,**

**Elvee**

* * *

Snatch

Chapter Nineteen

"Loyalty and devotion lead to bravery. Bravery leads to the spirit of self-sacrifice. The spirit of self-sacrifice creates trust in the power of love."

-Morihei Ueshiba

"And what have we here?" Lucius drawled, his wand held seemingly idly at the crook of his crossed arms. Surprise didn't ruffle him in the least. His shoulder length blonde hair played on the wind, but his face was smooth, almost impassive except for the tiniest hint of a triumphant smirk. "Draco, my, what a pleasant surprise."

Draco, for his part, was warily wielding his wand in his right hand. With his left he was firmly keeping Hermione behind him. "Father," he nodded, his whole body tense.

Lucius gave a short, light laugh, the darkness of violent insanity settling in his eyes. "And with Potter's little mudblood, I see. I could almost forgive your betrayal for just this one gift." He allowed himself the theatrics of a mock disapproving tut. Then his features morphed and his eyes glittered like folded steel. The smile he gave pulled his face into a feral and predatory look. "But I'm afraid, a Malfoy doesn't forget, let alone forgive."

"Leave her alone! She's mine!" Draco growled. He hissed over his shoulder, never taking his eyes from his father, "Run Hermione."

"Oh! So she is not for me. Pity." Lucius's eyebrow arched, a look of cool disdain joined his silky words. "And you think you can keep her from me? You who could not do the bidding of our Lord? You don't even have the stomach to punish this little mudblood as she deserves." He launched a curse at Hermione, but she sidestepped it by ducking quickly back behind Draco, and threw up a shield charm. The yew hedge behind her exploded into bits of branches and leaves. The shield charm wasn't much protection from a man like this, a man who oozed dark magic from his very pores. Danger lurked in his every soft syllable. "You have shamed me for the last time, Draco."

And then all hell broke loose.

"_Stupefy_!" Screamed Hermione even as she was shoved sideways by Draco. Lucius lazily flicked her red jet of light aside with barely a movement of his wand.

"_Protego_!" Draco yelled, conjuring a shield in front of her as she staggered to one side.

"_Imperio_!" Thundered Lucius and it was his spell that hit home. Draco stiffened and blinked. "Gather our guest and let us show her some true Malfoy hospitality."

Hermione scrambled around the edge of the hedge, nearly losing her feet. Behind her, Draco's even steps gave slow chase. Her mind whirled. If there was a counter curse to the _Imperius_ jinx, she didn't know it. She couldn't hurt him. Somewhere out in the rest of the maze lurked Lucius, if she could only get to him and disable him, perhaps the spell's hold on Draco would loosen and they could make a run for it.

"Hermione. Don't run." He called, but it wasn't Draco's voice. Normally his voice was warm and husky, and tinged with a sardonic twist. This voice almost seemed to echo in its emptiness. Her arms crawled in gooseflesh. This was _not_ her Draco.

She pelted toward the sound of the fountain, the uneven cobbles catching her shoes and nearly causing her to stumble, the yew branches grabbing at her hair and robes. The hedges were high and dense. It was some sort of a hedge maze, that she knew from following Draco earlier, but she had no idea where she was or how she was going to escape. At any turn she could run into Draco, or worse, his father. There was no place to hide at the foot of the bushes. The only thing she could do was keep running.

Lucius was a force of nature with a wand. How in the hell could she even consider defeating him to free Draco? Now Lucius thought Draco was working with Bellatrix to shame him. As his only surviving progeny, Lucius couldn't kill Draco, but he could torture him to within an inch of his life. With the _Imperius_ curse on him, Draco could be forced to maim and kill against his will, permanently shredding his soul. She couldn't – wouldn't- leave him to that fate.

Lucius wasn't going to treat her like a long lost puppy, either. If he had Draco under the _Imperius _curse, it was likely she'd be tortured by at least one of them. If she were a betting woman, she's bet Lucius would have Draco do it just for the practice. The sick fuck. As much as she wanted to flee screaming, she couldn't. She'd have to find a way to disable Lucius and rescue Draco, or she'd be no better than Snape. She couldn't live with that.

"Come, _ma cher_, Father wants to play. We shouldn't keep him waiting." Her breath caught in her throat. Blood pounded in her ears. Draco's voice was a row or two away from hers. Casting a _silencio_ on her shoes, she pelted back the way she came.

She was taking a hell of a gamble: first that she could find Lucius, and second that she could incapacitate him before he caught her. If she was caught, well, she didn't want to think what he would do to her if she was caught. He'd asked Draco to dissect a live muggle. Whatever he'd do, one thing was certain: she'd want to die before it was over with. He'd likely not stop until he broke her, until she spilled all the secrets she knew. She thought of Ron and Harry, and knew it was time.

As she ran, she dug in her beaded bag and finding the small poison capsule, carefully wedged it between her back teeth and her cheek. _Only if the worst happens_, she told herself. She had to be prepared not to give them the satisfaction or the information. She knew too much.

Through a thin spot in the hedgerow, she saw the golden glow of Lucius's hair as he ran ahead of her. His movements were fluid and perfectly silent, his wand held before him and ready to strike. He was a wizard on the hunt. She slowly closed in to the hole and poked her wand through. She just needed to get the shoulder of her wand arm through for a clean shot and she'd have him. She'd stun him within an inch of his life, drawing on every ounce of power left in her.

From behind her came a cry, "_Sectumsempra_!" The back of her right knee was slashed right through the tendons and she crumpled to the ground in a crashing of yew branches. Lucius whirled on his heel. Draco stood over her, an alien gleam in his eye. His voice was eerily calm. "Here she is, Father."

Pat.

Pat. Dribble.

Pat. Patter. Splash.

Hermione's eyes shot open as a sprinkling of water hit her in the face. She may as well not have bothered. Wherever she was, it was completely black, the kind of blackness that disorients people and takes the breath from them. The rest of her senses sharpened in response. A few feet away, water dripped from somewhere and patted onto the floor. Sprinkles of it hit her face and she recoiled. Sensation was flooding back to her. Her leg. Oh, Merlin, how her leg hurt. She tried to run her fingers over the wound, but only found her jeans crusted in a thick layer of dried blood. It smelled sharply moldy, wet and acrid like stale human waste.

She searched in vain for her wand. She patted around the floor for her beaded bag. Her little bag of tricks. Gone. All gone.

The rumble of someone talking in unintelligible fits and starts hit her ears. Somewhere outside her door there was a scream. It was high, thin and prolonged. It was Draco's scream. Lucius let loose a thundering roar. Oh, Gods. _Draco_.

So, she'd been right. Lucius was torturing him right now. _Think, Hermione. Think. Think. Think._

Another scream, a grunted laugh and an echoing wail. "Father!" was the only word she could make out.

She had no idea if it would work, but she didn't have a lot of options. Locked in some sort of dungeon and unable to walk, her beaded bag gone and Draco being tortured... It was the first thing she thought of. "Dobby!" She whispered urgently. "Oh, please, Dobby!"

There was a crack. "Mistress?" his voice echoed loudly in the stone room. She could feel his little hands brushing over her. "Mistress is hurt!" he squeaked, obviously in distress.

"Shhhh! Dobby, bring help. We've been captured by Lucius Malfoy. Quickly!" She heard another crack.

Down the hall, Draco screamed again, weaker this time and it ended in a sob. How long had she been out? How long had he been enduring his father's attentions? Merlin only knew what Lucius was doing to him. She had to distract him. Without pausing to think, she began to scream. "Lucius, you pustular excuse for a wizard, get in here! You're nothing more than the slime off a flobberworm's shit! You son of a squib! You're not fit to lick my muggle father's ass!"

She hurled every sorry excuse for an insult she could think of at the top of her lungs, knowing if she could hear Draco scream, they could hear her. It echoed in the stone room, bouncing around deafening her.

Abruptly, Draco's screaming stopped and the slamming of a heavy door could be heard. _Oh, Gods. Now what?_ Her breath was loud in her ears, her heart thumped in her throat.

Footsteps. He was coming.

The little pill! Of course.

Without preamble, the door to her cell slammed open and the room flooded with blinding light from the hall. "So, our guest is finally awake. I have waited a long time for this, Mudblood! _Crucio_!"

To be sure, Hermione had read about the _Cruciatus_ curse. She'd read about the laws punishing those who used it, medical articles dealing with those who had died from it, first hand accounts of how to cast it. She'd read as much – if not more- than any other witch she knew, but nothing, _nothing_ prepared her for the cascading avalanche of pain slicing through her nerves.

She was on fire, being flayed and electrocuted all at once, even as her bones were being crushed ever so slowly. Painful wasn't in the same postal code. Excruciating didn't come close. It was pain the likes of which would stop a person's heart for their sheer inability to process it. She writhed on the floor, screaming, her face and palms scraping mercilessly against the stone floor.

"And this, Miss Granger, is what mudbloods are for," Lucius said smoothly as he lifted the curse with a smirk. "Just a small taste for your first time. I intend to savor you before I turn you over to the Dark Lord. If I were you, I'd settle in for a long day."

She gulped in air. Slowly, on shaking arms she pressed herself up off the floor and stared defiantly into his eyes. "I don't take advice from men who torture their own family." She balled up the blood in her mouth and spit it on his shiny boots and the hem of his spotless robes. The blood glistened in the light from the hall.

He backhanded her and she saw stars. As the room stopped whirling, she gave a chuckling hiss between her split lip, "I took her from you, Lucius. A little mudblood took away your favorite toy." She swiped the blood away from her chin with the cuff of her jumper, still chuckling defiantly. "_I _saved Narcissa. And whatever you do to me, you can't touch her ever again." She had to keep him here. She had to keep him away from Draco.

If she thought the last round of C_ruciatus_ curse was hell, this one went many, many levels below that, although, she was well beyond screaming now. Somehow, somehow she could only laugh, and her laughter only increased his fury and the intensity of the spell.

When he finally dropped it, she could see her face was lying in a pool of her own blood. She could feel it running out of her mouth, ears and nose, even trickling from her eyes. She gasped to get her breath, still chuckling involuntarily and choking on the blood.

Lucius's face was a mask of hatred and vengeance. "I can see I am not getting my point across." He whirled on his heel and with a swish of robes was gone.

Her hearing was going, she was losing touch with reality, but somewhere beyond the tunnel her mind was falling through she heard, "_Imperio_!"It was no use trying to see through the blood in her eyes. She let her eyes fall blissfully shut, panting on the floor.

A moment later, she could tell the light from the doorway was obscured. She fought to open her eyes, to meet her fate head on. She didn't have the strength of will left to command her body any longer. With one last hard won effort, she moved her tongue over to the tiny, hard pebble of poison between her cheek and her tooth. With a little swish of her tongue, it fell into place between her molars.

"Have you ever been flayed alive, my pet? I assure you it is one of the most painful things I have ever had the good fortune to do to a mudblood. But you aren't listening to me. Perhaps you'll listen to my son. Teach her a lesson, Draco! Flay her!"

"No." Draco's voice was a strangled whisper, it was obvious he was fighting the curse like Harry could. But Draco wasn't Harry. He yelped, but with her eyes closed, she couldn't tell the reason. "No, I won't!" His voice was getting stronger, but he panted with the effort.

"I command you to flay her! Obey me!" Lucius screamed.

"No. Nononono." Even as he fought the curse, her skin was sliced open. With the first split of her skin – a piece from her forearm, all she could feel was relief. This didn't hurt anywhere near as badly as the _Cruciatus_ curse. She could feel a flap of skin being peeled away from her arm, like shucking a piece of corn. The blood pouring off the fresh wound mingled with the already cooling blood on the stones under her face. It felt vaguely warm and oddly comforting under her ear.

A large crack split the dungeon air. Two jets of red light soared true and hit both of the men standing over her between his shoulder blades. Lucius Malfoy crumpled over on top of her, knocking the last of the wind from her.

"Dobby! Bring Draco!" She wanted to yell it, but the weight of Lucius's body was crushing her lungs, and all she could manage was a ragged whisper.

"Merlin's hairy toes! What have they done to her?" Even though it was whispering, it was a familiar voice, and somehow it comforted her. She drifted further from reality.

"Get him off her. We have no idea how many more there are. Let's move!" She wanted to tell them they had to _obliviate_ Lucius into infancy. It was the only way Narcissa Malfoy would live through the war. But the blackness was surrounding her like a comforting cloak. She was swimming in it.

She only had the presence of mind to grab Dobby's jumper with her bloody hand and drag him to her, "Draco. Don't let them hurt him." She felt the owners of the voices heaving Lucius's from her, but by the time they rolled Lucius Malfoy's limp body from hers and tipped her onto her back, she'd lost too much blood and the blackness had claimed her.

When she awoke next she was in a wide fresh bed with pristine white linens in a sunny room. The windows were thrown open and sun streamed across her knees. To her left a straight backed wooden chair had been drawn up and a mess of black hair was flopped onto the edge of the bed. Gentle snores emanated from him.

She tried to clear her throat and wound up coughing. The head shot up at once. Round wire-rimmed glasses sat askew her best friend's face as he beamed up at her. "'Mione! You're awake!" he grasped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Water?" She could only manage a rasp.

Harry jumped up from the chair and conjured a glass, filling it with cool water. "Here," Harry said, tipping the glass gently to her lips. "Let me help you."

As she sipped, something niggled at her unfocused mind, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. It wasn't much help to her fuzzy brain that Harry was nattering on, "So glad to see you're awake! Merlin's beard you had us scared! And then when the healer had the bleeding under control, you nearly poisoned yourself!"

Then it hit her like a brick. She tried to raise herself up on her elbows, but her head felt like it was splitting open. "Oh Gods! Draco!"

He set the glass on the bedside table and smoothed back her hair. "Don't worry about Malfoy, 'Mione. The Order's on their way to pick him up. Dobby wouldn't let us get close to him, said something about not hurting him. We've got him chained up downstairs."

"No! Harry Potter, you let him go right this instant! Has he seen a healer?" Her anger with him lost some of its edge as her voice came out in a disused squeak.

He blinked. "But, 'Mione, he was flaying you alive!"

"He was under the _Imperius_ curse, Harry! And he's not going anywhere with the Order! Bring him here, right this instant!" She struggled against his hands pinning her to the bed. She struggled against the wave of pain and dizziness from sitting up and swiveling her feet to the edge of the bed. "If you're not going to bring him to me, I'm going to him. Of all the pixie-brained," She winced as she placed her feet on the floor, "Flobberworm infested," She wobbled on her feet. "Werewolf kissing ideas to get into your head!"

"Alright! Okay! Let me go get him. You stay in bed." Harry crossed to the door, scratching his head, then called down the stairs, "Oi! Ron! Hermione's awake and she wants to see Malfoy. Bring him up!"

A jangle of chains limped up unseen steps. Draco, wearing heavy hand and foot manacles and bloody robes appeared in the doorway, never lifting his face from his feet. She could see a streak of dried blood running from his left ear down into his collar.

"Draco? Are you alright?" She asked softly.

"I am so sorry," he managed to whisper. "Gods, Hermione, can you ever forgive me?" Ron peeked around Draco in the door frame, his eyebrows flying into his hairline at Draco's words. He exchanged a puzzled look with Harry, who was just as taken aback. They shrugged at one another.

"Draco, there's nothing to forgive, luv." With those words he launched himself across the room and into her arms.

Both her best friends' faces twisted in horrified shock.

"Oi!" Ron bellowed, "Is somebody gonna tell us what the hell is going on?"


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Sorry, my lovelies. Sometimes bad things happen in the world beyond FF. This time it happened to me and while things are under control, it is monopolizing my time and driving me crazy.**

**To those of you who thought last chapter was filler – ask yourself this: did it reveal character or forward the plot? The answer was yes. In a big way. We've had a fundamental shift in both plot and characterization. It's getting our characters to admit it that's the problem.**

**Short chapter, but still a natural breaking point in the story, so I'm going to let it stand. WARNING: Full frontal nudity in this chapter, sexual situations and innuendo. It's fairly mild, but I am a mom, so if you're not old enough, please go read elsewhere. For the rest of my lovelies, enjoy. Review?**

**-Elvee**

* * *

Snatch

Chapter Twenty

"It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Ron's reaction was so predictable she ignored it, instead studying Draco's face. He had a black eye, a broken nose and two splits in his lip. Putting her arms around him he flinched, and she found the fabric of his shirt was stiff with blood. She pinned Harry with a hard look, "Didn't you heal him?"

Harry had the good grace to look sheepish, but Ron spluttered, "Heal him? 'Mione hewas_ torturing you_!"

Her hard glare met Ron's pinched, angry face. "He tried to save my life, Ronald Weasley!" She gave the blond's pale face a measuring look, brushing his hair out of his eyes, finally asking softly, "Draco, when's the last time you ate?"

Malfoy shrugged and ran his tongue along his split bottom lip, not meeting her eye. "Bread and water yesterday."

"Bread and..." She closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath. "I don't believe you two! No healing? No food? Chained up in manacles! Honestly!" Ron's mouth gaped open like a fish, struggling for something to say. Harry frowned but remained silent. With one last hard look at each of them, she called for Dobby. Thankfully the elf had grabbed her wand, but the beaded bag was nowhere to be found. She cursed under her breath, the loss of Draco's money and her potions stock was a hard blow. "Okay, let's have a look at you," she told Draco. "Go ahead and strip."

Ron clenched his fists, "Oi!" He pointed at Malfoy, yelling, "Put that back on! Malfoy is not taking his clothes off in front of you!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed out a breath, floating an errant curl above her forehead. "Ron, just..."

Grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling upward with a smirk, Draco chose that moment to pipe in, "It wouldn't be the first time she's seen me naked, Weasel."

"Draco, please don't start..." Hermione begged.

"WHAT!" Ron roared, his face turning a blotchy pink.

Draco's bloody shirt fell to the floor and he started on the buckle of his belt, still smirking. "After snogging, it just seemed like the natural next..."

"You SNOGGED the Ferret!" Ron turned bright red.

"That's enough." Hermione tried to intercede as she flicked her wand to pull Ron in the room, shut the door and throw up a silencing ward.

In the meantime, Draco let his pants fall to his ankles, exposing himself. Apparently, only _some_ of his clothes made it out of the Malfoy summer home. "That wasn't the best of it though, was it Hermione?" He leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her cheek as she was finishing up the ward.

Hermione glared at Draco, leveling her wand in a threatening fashion. It didn't stop him from running his mouth. "We shared magic." He had balls, she had to give him that.

"YOU SHARED MAGIC! WHAT THE HELL, 'MIONE?" Ron's face had gone straight into a livid shade of purple and spittle flew from his mouth as he yelled. Harry grabbed his elbow as he tried to launch himself at Malfoy.

Malfoy smirked, "Twice actually."

"It's not what you think. I..." Seeing she wasn't getting through to her friends, Hermione groaned and hissed at Draco, "Would you shut up?" He did stop talking, but the damage was done, and he had the audacity to smile – an actual, genuine smile- at her. She narrowed her eyes at him in warning.

"Ron, mate. Calm down." Harry soothed. "I'm sure Hermione had a good reason to..."

"They _shared magic_, Harry! That's like... like..." Ron turned puce and wrinkled his brow in hatred.

"Like sex?" Draco asked. "Yeah, it is remarkably similar."He leered at Hermione.

For his part, Ron attempted to charge, and Harry scuffled with him to keep him away from the bed. "Lemme go! I'm gonna rip his bloody arms off!"

Blushing, Hermione still had the presence of mind to bark, "Enough!" With a flick of her wand Ron went stiff as a board. "Harry, get him out of here." Vanishing Draco's shackles, she roughly turned the blond in front of her around and found four long deep gashes in his back. "Dobby, prepare a warm bath, bring needle and thread and food for Malfoy."

Harry gave her a long, measured look before speaking, "'Mione, I don't know what's been going on. First you disappear for weeks, next thing we know you're being tortured in some house in Germany, and now you're defending _him_." He motioned at Malfoy, sitting quite nude and smug on the edge of her bed. "Ron might be overreacting, but you do owe us an explanation."

"You'd have had one by now if you two hadn't acted like Neanderthals! Wait downstairs. I'll get him sorted and be down in a few minutes." With a curt nod, Harry released the petrification spell and dragged a glaring Ron through the door. She flinched at the slamming door. Hermione sagged back into her pillows, pinching the bridge of her nose. That couldn't have gone worse if she'd tried to feed them to one of Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts..

She felt the depression change on the bed as Draco shuffled next to her. He grabbed her hand and ran his thumbs over her knuckles. "Weasel. Predictable as always."

She pursed her lips and glared at him. "Why do you do that, Draco? Why do you _always_ do that?" She blew out a long breath and mentally counted to ten. She tried to remember he hadn't eaten decently in days and was probably in pain from his wounds. But, of course, this was Malfoy. He didn't need a reason to rile Ron up. She counted to ten again and felt his lips brush over her knuckles.

"I know what I want for my favor." He said softly.

She gave a sound of disbelief, then asked, rather put out, "You want a favor _now_? You're a berk, you know that, Malfoy?"

He placed his free hand on top of hers and pressed. "I want you to be my girlfriend."

She sighed. "No. We said no sexual favors."

He smirked and got a very Slytherin twinkle in his eye. "Ah, but I didn't ask for sexual favors. I asked you to be my girlfriend." He brought her knuckles to his lips again and planted a very slow, breathy kiss over them that sent a shiver chasing up her spine.

She squeaked, "What's the point of being involved if we're not," she was going to say _having sex_, but she didn't want to give him any ideas. Hearing the squeak in her tone, she cleared her throat. "Involved?" She tried to pull her hand away, but he held it fast.

He pulled the back of her hand to his lips again and smirked over it, saying, "If you're my girlfriend, you can't date the Weasel."

She tried to snatch her hand away petulantly and snapped, "Oh, for crying out loud!" He thought Ron was what? In love with her? Liked her? Ron was her best friend. Her eyes widened and she burst out laughing. She finally managed to stutter between laughs, "Ron's not... He wouldn't..."

Malfoy's eyes darkened and he grabbed her shoulder. "Use that terrifying brain of yours, Granger. He is and he would." His hand was gripping her just a bit too tight. It didn't hurt, not exactly, but it wasn't a friendly touch, either.

She stopped laughing and asked the most logical question she could think of, "And why would you care if he was interested in me?"

"So, your life's ambition is to marry the Weasel and squeeze out enough kits to make the next Hogwarts Griffindor quidditch team? How very... pedestrian of the brightest witch of our age." Draco drawled.

She narrowed her eyes to slits. "Don't answer my question with a question. Ron isn't interested in me. Anyway, I never said I was marrying anyone," she finished smugly.

He was distracting her by tracing his thumb over her bottom lip. "Wrong, Granger. Just a few days back you said you were going to marry me."

She batted at his hand and laughed derisively. "That marriage would have been a sham! I would have been halfway around the world in hiding within twelve hours of our vows. That marriage – if you want to call it that- was specifically designed to engineer the downfall of the Malfoy line: no consummation, ergo, no children, ergo, no heir. Despite popular belief, I am not the Virgin Mary."

"Who?"

Of course he would miss the muggle religious reference about immaculate conception. "Never mind. That plan is blown to hell. Don't worry, Malfoy, you're once again free to auction the cold side of your marriage bed to the highest inbred bidder."

Draco's expression darkened. "I never said anything about marrying..."

"We're getting side tracked." She put a finger over his lips, silencing him. "Don't worry your pretty head. I'll find another way to deal with Lucius. And you're disseminating, which means you're hiding something instead of answering my question. If you won't tell me the real reason you want me to be your girlfriend, the deal is off."

"For shame, Granger. I never thought I'd see the day a Griffindor wouldn't hold up her end of a bargain." She made to protest, but he spoke right over her, "You owe me a favor. I just called it in. Are you going to honor our agreement or not?"

She bit her lip, torn between honoring their agreement and damaging her friendship with Ron even further. He would blow his top if he thought she was dating Malfoy. Then again, a Slytherin could ask for any number of much more unpleasant favors instead of just posing as his girlfriend. He could ask her to break into Gringott's or for a Chinese Fireball egg. Yes, it could be much, much worse.

After all, the idea of being his girlfriend wasn't that terribly distasteful. _Too bad its only for show_, she thought almost before she could catch herself at it. _Oh, get a grip on your wand, girl. So he can kiss, so what? So what if he's beautiful naked? _Draco Malfoy was a purebred, pureblooded prat_. _It isn't like he'd actually want to be the boyfriend of a bushy-headed know-it-all._ You're nothing but a mudblood to him. _

For some reason, that last bit hurt more than the first time he called her that.

She gritted her teeth. Malfoy would never change. Fine. She could play his stupid little game. Ron was her best friend, he'd forgive her in the end. He would have to, because he sure wasn't going to be happy when she told him. There was one last thing still bothering her, and though she could speculate, it was easier to ask. "You still haven't told me why."

"It'll drive the Weasel niffler-mad. He turns a rather entertaining shade of purple when he's barking, doesn't he?" Malfoy smirked. For whatever reason, she could tell he was lying. The cues were subtle and would go unnoticed to a casual observer, but they'd been together for a few weeks now and she was learning to read him.

"Liar." She called him on it and watched his face carefully. Something flitted across his features, but before she could figure it out, it was gone. He cut off her whirring brain with a kiss. He twined a hand lazily in the hair at the base of her neck, pulling her closer as he nibbled at her lips. It wasn't hard and desperate; this kiss had nothing to prove. It was gentle, languid and sexy. It was the kind of devastatingly soft kiss you melt into, and she did, tenderly running her tongue over his split bottom lip.

When they finally broke apart, he leaned his forehead to hers and whispered, "Sex may not be part of the agreement, but I'm ready whenever you are, princess."

It took her a moment to gather her scattered wits, then she quietly cleared her throat. "But, I'm a mudblood."

He planted a soft kiss on her cheek, and breathed, "You're a woman." He trailed another kiss down to her jaw.

She caught herself letting out a sigh. "For how long?" She managed to say, but barely. Her body was overloading her mind with humming pleasure as she tried desperately to out-Slytherin a Slytherin.

"Until I say so." He dipped lower, his tongue tracing the sensitive spot below her ear.

"No...no sex?" She tried to keep her voice firm, but it came out more as a questioning yip. She rolled her shoulders and shivered as he continued to suck and gently bite her throat.

He broke the suction from her skin and punctuated his words with little flicks of his tongue. "Not unless you want to."His hand brushed up from her waist to cup her breast. His thumb flicked lazily over the hard nub of her nipple through the thin fabric of her nightgown.

Her stomach, only fluttering to this point, clenched in need. Gods help her, in that moment, she'd never wanted anything more than sex with Draco bloody Malfoy.

Thank Merlin for house elves.

With a crack Dobby appeared with a towel draped over his arm, bowing low. "Mister Malfoy's bath is ready, Mistress." She caught the elf scowling at Draco for a fraction of a second. "Will he be requiring assistance?"

With an effort of will, she pushed Draco away and cleared her throat. "No," she squeaked. "Thank you, Dobby." The elf disappeared with a snap of his fingers. She tried to get a handle on her rampaging libido before continuing, "You should go take a bath. We've got to get you patched up before you see your mother."

He grinned like a firstie on Christmas morning, tightening his arms around her. "She's here? Why didn't you tell me?"

Hermione smiled. "I just did."

He tried to extricate himself from her arms to reach for his bloody clothes, "Well, where is she? I want to see her!"

Hermione pulled him back to look at her. "Think, Draco! Your mother doesn't need to see you beaten to a bloody pulp! She's going to need your strength." She smoothed her hand down his cheek and darted her eyes between his, waiting.

He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a hard breath, then nodded. "Yeah," he finally conceded. "Yeah, you're right." The kiss he gave her sent the butterflies in her stomach into flurries again. Draco never took his eyes from her. They had turned to liquid mercury, his pupils wide with arousal. She dropped her eyes to avoid the weight of his gaze. Of course, that wasn't the only thing, er, aroused. "So how 'bout it, Granger? Be my witch?"

She tore her gaze from his erection and forced herself to meet his eyes. She hesitated for the space of time it took to dart a glance at his lips. "Fine." She poked out her hand to shake, "Even?"

"Even." He bypassed her outstretched hand and pulled her into his arms again, sealing it with another scorching kiss. She ran her hands across his battered chest, finally mustering the strength of will to push him away, her pulse racing.

"Go get your bath. I'll check on your mother and make sure she's up to having visitors." As an afterthought, she conjured a towel. "And no streaking in the hallways. As angry as Ron is, he might just hex it off."

"We can't have that. Not yet," he gave a suggestive wink and stood, wrapping the towel around his waist.

When the door closed softly behind him, Hermione flopped back onto her pillows with a growl of frustration. What in the hell had she just agreed to? And more importantly, why? It almost seemed like he wanted her, but then he'd said he wanted her to be his girlfriend to rile up Ron. Which was the truth? Damn Slytherins. She growled again, louder this time.

Malfoy was going to be the death of her yet. That is, if Ron didn't kill her first.


End file.
